The Knights of Dobenshire
by Snark-N-Moon
Summary: The tales of King Arthur had always been of some interest to Scrooge McDuck, and especially ones involving his sword- Excalibur. One day Scrooge McDuck, with unexpected help from his faithful accountant, Fenton Crackshell, stumbled upon the last piece of the puzzle to solving the ancient mystery. - a sequel to 'Investments'.
1. In Search for Excalibur

Scrooge McDuck grumbled as he threw yet another scroll to the side of his desk- becoming one with the rest of his towering clutter. Without giving it much thought the old mallard's hand reached for another piece of text, as he loomed over it- his magnify glass ready to search and find the missing piece he needed to complete a centuries old puzzle.

Life for Scrooge had been going well ever since he had settled his public affairs, his love life now being old news- which was GOOD news as far as McDuck was concerned. No longer was his phone ringing at all hours, no longer were hoards of paparazzi and cameras following him around. And with the additional profits from the newly sought after flubble oil, this left the duck with the perfect lull to go back to doing what he did best: finding his next adventure.

"Ugh, no. It's not this one either!" The billionaire growled in frustration, fighting his urge to throw his magnify glass across the room." I know Excalibur is supposed t'be a well guarded secret… But ye'd think somebody over the past few hundreds of years would have blabbed about SOMETHING!"

Scrooge sighed to himself, as he turned around in his chair, giving the room a look over and just feeling all the more bitter as he took in the mess his research had wrought. Over the course of his life the old mallard had found himself enamoured by tales of King Arthur and his daring exploits. Sure, most of it was just fairy tale hooey- many of the adventures showing similar themes to other myths from different parts of the world that he had read countless times before. However, it had been decades ago when during an evening of light reading that Scrooge had found something that piqued his interest: a certain legend that had mentioned the hero's sword, Excalibur. It had always intrigued him that of all things in the tales that would change depending on where the legend was told- the sword would always be described in the same way. A long silver blade, the handle decorated with intricate carvings and jewels forged into the weapon.

See, the thing about old tales… was that there was always a layer of truth hidden just underneath the surface.

"Whatcha got there, Scroogey?"

He spun back around to see Fenton standing in the doorway. The old mallard sighed theatrically, and rested his head on his cluttered desk.

"A bunch of useless junk, I'm starting to figure." he replied, lifting another scroll and tossing it aside, without even bothering to look at it. Fenton took this as an okay to enter, and did just that. He picked up a scroll off the desk, and looked it over.

Looked complicated.

"Huh... is there a, summarized version here somewhere?"

Scrooge slid out of his chair, and gazed out of the window, hands behind his back.

"I'm looking for clues on the whereabouts of the legendary sword, Excalibur... it vanished years ago, and no one's ever been able to find it."

"Excalibur, huh? I know that story!" Fenton replied, using a rolled up scroll as a makeshift sword, slashing at the empty air. "Er, well, the song version of it, anyhow."

Without warning or reason, Fenton launched into song before Scrooge could advise him to please not.

" _King Arthur set out on one last ride_

 _Excalibur was by his side_

 _He drew his sword and fought his best_

 _But in the end he came to rest_

 _Upon the ground and so they say_

 _King Arthur vanished that day._

 _Though he was never seen again, his story ends not here!_

 _Prophecy told his loyal sword would someday reappear._ "

Scrooge had since turned around, and he watched, amused, as his significant other swayed to the off key beat of his own singing.

" _Oh, ride on, seekers of the blade!  
Though years have passed, its magic will not fade._

 _Ride on, don't fret, you'll find it if you're true-  
Hidden away in Dobenshire, its power awaits you_!"

Fenton finally stopped, out of breath but seemingly pleased. He wasn't the only one who was pleased, either.

"Hold on just a minute, Dobenshire? I've heard that somewhere before... I wonder..."

"Oh, that might be because of the that ol' cartoon show that used to play on Saturdays: ' _The Knights of Dobenshire_ '." The middle aged duck paused his imaginary sword fighting as he drooped in mild sadness, nostalgia making him miss his childhood. "Really, such a shame they canceled it. Sure, they had eighteen seasons, and it got a bit monotonous around season eight… But a good show's a good show!"

Scrooge, however, had barely been listening as he went back through his piles of scrolls, quickly opening and skimming through the material. He had expeditiously gone through the lot, throwing them wildly onto the floor, when he suddenly remembered the missing piece of text from his collection. He turned towards the lad, who was still going on about how 'cartoons just weren't the same anymore' when McDuck cleared his throat to get his significant other's attention.

" _Ahem_. Fenton… do y'mind?" he asked, holding out his hand expectantly.

The accountant smiled widely.

"Suuure, I don't mind!" A pause. "... uh, what am I not minding, here, exactly?"

" _Hand me the scroll, ye dingus_."

"Oh! Whoops. Here ya go, Sir Scroogey; your sword."

Scrooge smirked and rolled his eyes at Fenton's bow, and swiped the scroll from his hand. It was opened and spread across the desk, Scrooge already scanning it with his trusty magnifying glass.

"We might just be onto something, here... yes! This is it! It's got to be! Dobenshire, here I come!"

Fenton raised a brow, then shook his head.

"Uh, Scrooge, did ya miss the part about Dobenshire being a made up place, and all that?"

Scrooge chuckled.

"Aye, the name of the place might be all hogwash and fairy dust, but the actual location exists, alright! Take a look here."

And look Fenton did, as his gaze lingered over the old map placed before him. The accountant raised a brow at some of the images- pictures of dragons, ogres and witches spread out over the land. He did see some names of made up places, however, and he noted that Dobenshire seemed to be close to the southern coast of the landmass.

"Eh, pretty pictures. Think I could do with less depictions of decapitation, though."

Scrooge rolled his eyes, realizing the lad hadn't had a clue what he was looking at. The old mallard hopped from his seat as he made it across the room, very much aware of the fact Fenton's eyes were on him. It was with a flick of the wrist he pulled a map off the shelf and unrolled it as he made his way back.

"Pretty pictures or not, it's the location I'm more concerned about." He placed his newly retrieved map on top of the scroll, as he pointed to the location where Dobenshire had been on the other. " Tell me what you see now."

Fenton tilted his head again, as he read in confusion.

"'Exmouth'?" His eyes roamed over the page until he noticed words he actually recognized like 'Oxford' and 'London'. "Saaaay, that's a map of England!"

" _Aye._ Right you are, and Exmouth happens t'have a spot just outside the town where there are prehistoric caves. Now, this may be a longshot… But I'm starting to wonder if maybe that's where I should try lookin'."

"As good a place as any, I'd say!" Fenton's excitement over the implied adventure was evident in both his tone and body language. "I'll just-"

"It's a downright shame that the boys are in school at the moment..." Scrooge interrupted, rolling up the scroll and the map together. "who will I go with now? I can't just as well go by myself..."

Fenton's bill was still hanging open, as he stared at his boyfriend in silence for a short moment.

"Ah... I know someone who might be useful on this trip..." he offered, watching as Scrooge fetched his coat from the corner of the room.

"Aye, I know, I considered taking Gyro, as well. But I just don't think he has the physical endurance needed for this sort of thing."

Fenton sputtered, beginning to panic a little bit, stepping out from behind the desk to approach Scrooge.

"Well okay, _sure_ , but what about-"

"Duckworth? Pah. He's great around the house, and as a chauffeur, but an adventurer? Nah."

The accountant was beginning to completely freak out by this point- how.. how could ol' Scroogey forget HIM of all people? His hero, his loyal employee… his BOYFRIEND! Fenton's eyes were starting to turn into saucers, when the old mallard paused as he threw his significant other a half lidded look- his eyes sparkling with mischievousness.

"You know… it was once suggested I should consider outsourcin' t'other heroes. What about that Darkwing Duck? Ye worked with the lad, think he'd have it in 'im to accompany me?"

Okay, that was the last straw. Fenton cried out in anguish as he threw himself at Scrooge's feet, wrapping his arms around his legs as he whined.

"No! No, not Wingy! Take ME, Scroogey! I promise I'd be nothing but an asset- _your loyal number two_! I'll do anything you say- _JUST DON'T TAKE HIM!_ "

Scrooge could barely hold in his laughter as Fenton looked up at him with big watering eyes. He chuckled, as he gently patted the top of the other duck's head affectionately.

"Now now, none of that. Of course I was plannin' on taking you. That is, if ye think ya can manage to spare some time. It'll be an overnight trip, you know."

Fenton was up on his feet in a flash, arms now thrown around Scrooge's torso, instead, in a big hug.

"My time is your time, Scroogey, you know that! Oh thank you thank you thank you! I know I've said this before, but you won't regret it!"

Fenton let go and scrambled toward the door, grabbing for the handle and missing twice before he caught it.

"Let me do some light packing, I'll be back before you can say rubber baby buggy bumpers!"

Scrooge stared after the duck, long after he had left and scurried down the hall. He sighed loudly, and shook his head, but he was smirking.

This trip was already promising to be an interesting one, if not a lucrative one.

* * *

"You're going WHERE?"

Iva Crackshell stood in the doorway of her son's bedroom- as he wildly stuffed clothes and things he needed into a large suitcase. It had been a commercial break when Fenton had run into the trailer and straight to his room- where crashing and other concerning sounds followed him. Not having anything else to do, and admittedly curious, the old woman made her way from the couch and peeked her head into the cluttered room.

Fenton, who had a pillow in his mouth and his arms full of blankets when he finally spit it out onto the large pile. He turned to his mother, excitedly.

"To Exmith… Exmut… ENGLAND!" The middle aged duck skipped to his mother as he grabbed her hands- bouncing in place from excitement. "Oh, M'ma, Scroogey is taking me on an overnight trip! Just he and I, the two of us!"

Mrs. Crackshell raised a brow at this.

"Kinda moving fast there, dontcha think? The guy could barely admit you were in a relationship a week ago, and now he's taking you on a romantic getaway?"

Not that she really cared either way, just sounded _weird_ to her considering all that had happened.

"Aw, it's not like that, M'ma!" Fenton had to admit, at least to himself, that he really hoped it was exactly like that. He wrapped an arm around his mother's shoulders, and used his free hand to gesture toward things that apparently only he could see.

"It's about the adventure! The experiences! And, okay, maybe if I'm lucky, a little bit of romance..."

M'ma turned toward her son, and gave him a tired, but loving smile.

"Just promise me you'll be careful, alright? Listen, Fenton, your first time... _adventuring_... isn't always as glorious as the books and movies make it out to be. And that's okay! It'll be awkward, and maybe a little bit painful if you're not prepared..."

"Pshaw, M'ma! I'm completely prepared! See, I've got the Gizmo suit right here!" He patted one of the many suitcases he was carrying. "I'll be fine!"

Iva began a reply, but didn't get to finish, before Fenton kissed her on the cheek, wished her one more 'see ya later', and trundled out the door with his plethora of bags and suitcases.

Mrs. Crackshell sighed before mumbling to the empty trailer.

" _Yeah, but that wasn't the kind of protection I meant, Fenton..."_

* * *

By the time the accountant had arrived back at McDuck Manor, Fenton was surprised to see an empty helicopter waiting in the front yard. After quickly looking around the thing to see if he could spot heads or tales of Scrooge- or anybody at all for that matter- he began to make his way towards the door just as his paramore was exiting. His butler behind him, ready to hand the old mallard his carry-on bag as McDuck continued to give orders.

"And take any messages that might come in, too, Duckworth. Don't let the children answer the phone this time- it took me _ages_ to figure out what 'hand baloney' even _meant_!"

"Never again, _mark my words_." The butler handed the bag to his boss. "Anything else, sir?"

Before Scrooge could say anything else, he spotted Fenton and smiled. He waved off Duckworth, eyes still focused on the duck making his way towards them even as he continued.

"No, I suppose not. But if the boys need me at all, just let them know I'll be in touch by radio. I'll also be checking in before their bedtime."

There was a thud and a clatter as Fenton dropped his load to the ground. Scrooge shook his head.

"Fenton, you can't take all of that with you. Have you never ridden in a helicopter before?"

Fenton, only now aware of how much he had brought, glanced around at the bags, and chuckled, sheepishly.

" _Whoops._ Guess I did get a little carried away! Uh, let's see here, I guess all I really need... there. Better?" He flashed Scrooge a toothy grin, holding up one duffel bag and the case with the gizmo suit inside.

"Aye, that'll do. Toss 'em behind the seat, we're just about ready for take off."

Just as Fenton was going to ask when Scrooge learned to fly, a familiar voice called out from behind them.

"Heh-hey there, Fenton! Long time no see, hah?"

Fenton spun around, and stared at the pilot- and he used the term lightly- as he waved and made his way across the yard.

"Launchpad? Uh, hey there, pal!" He leaned over to whisper to Scrooge, "He's just our ride, right? Not that there's not room for three, I just thought... y'know..."

Scrooge threw the younger duck another half-lidded gaze.

"Launchpad will be flying us there, as well as being radio backup just in case anything happens while potholing. Other than that, it'll be just the two of us."

"... Potholing?" Crackshell asked in confusion, though admittedly relieved that there wouldn't be a third wheel for the important parts of the adventure.

"Spelunking, Fenton." After a pause and realizing the lad still wasn't catching on, Scrooge rolled his eyes. " _Cave exploring._ REALLY, what in the world did they ever teach you lot in school?"

"Apparently cave exploring wasn't on the academic agenda. Then again, I hardly made it past the sixth grade."

The older mallard was about to crack a comment about what a risk he took hiring a high school dropout to be his accountant, when their banter was cut short by the sound of a throat being cleared. Looking over, they saw Launchpad waving at them.

"If you two lovebirds are finished, just wanted to let you know everything's packed up as snug as a bug in a rug. All ready for take off when you are, Mr. McDee."

Scrooge gestured toward the helicopter with a nod of his head.

"Shall we?"

"Yes!" Fenton cried, eagerly. "We shall!"

And with that, the three boarded the helicopter, and were on their way to a brand new adventure.

* * *

The scenery below was beautiful, breathtaking, dizzying. Sprawling forests with impermeable canopies, towns and cities that looked like nothing more than a child's plaything, impressive bodies of water that, from up there, looked like puddles. The sky turned from pretty blue to different and darker hues as they raced through the time zones- the accounting made sure his naps in between the eight hour trip were very brief so he wouldn't miss anything. Fenton was in awe- and in shock over how calm Scrooge and Launchpad were. Of course, he thought, they see this kind of thing all the time.

Fenton fidgeted in his seat, suddenly regretting leaving his camera behind. His first real adventure, and he wouldn't even have any pictures to show M'ma when he got back!

It was while Crackshell was taking in scenery- the way the full moon reflected on the water below- that Launchpad cleared his throat, getting the others' attention.

"Sooo… what's the occasion, anyway? If you don't mind me asking, that is. Business or pleasure?"

Scrooge rolled his eyes, though it was obvious he was amused by the question.

"Now Launchpad, you of all people should know I find that business IS my pleasure."

"So I take it this isn't a vacation getaway for two, then. Shame, I kinda thought you guys could use it after the whole deal with the paparazzi taking the wind from your sails for a while there. Had us worried."

Fenton cringed from the backseat- his excitement having had made him forget the whole ordeal- before poking his head around the chair as something dawned on him.

"Wait, you guys got the same trash news in Saint Canard too?!"

"Sure," LP said with a shrug of his shoulders." Why wouldn't we? Mr. McDee is hot stuff no matter where he goes or what he does. But boy, I'll tell ya, I had a lil' trouble dealing with DW over your guys stealing the limelight. No matter who he'd bust, you guys were the talk of the town."

"Gee, Launchpad, I'm sorry you guys had to hear about-"

"That's enough of that." Scrooge interrupted, curtly. "That's all in the past. Now look there, up ahead, that's our future, and where we're headed!"

A bustling town loomed in the distance. It was hard to see some, but seemed small for a town; then again, everything looked small when you were soaring through the skies.

"Is that Extooth?" Fenton asked in awe, leaning forward so far now, he was practically in the front seat with them.

"Exmouth, yes. Launchpad, start lookin' for the landin' pad- Excalibur, here we come!"

"Aye, aye, Mr. McDee!" Launchpad replied.

Fenton couldn't tell which was making his poor heart beat so fast; the excitement of the promised adventure, or seeing Scrooge's eyes light up as he mentioned the elusive sword. He ultimately decided it was both. However, his heart was quick to start pumping fast for a different reason as the looney pilot began to descend towards a clearing outside of the city. The helicopter sped, causing Fenton to clutch tightly to the seat in front of him. He yelped but noted his wasn't the only cry of alarm as Scrooge clutched onto his hat and armrest.

"Woah, " Launchpad said mildly and far too calmly for anybody's liking, "looks like this might be a bit bumpy. Hold on, fellas."

LP pulled onto the steering stick with all his might, trying to pull the helicopter enough so that he could get some control of the thing. He was surprised when next thing he knew, he pulled the lever out of the control panel entirely.

"Heh, whoops, " the pilot said with a bit more alarm. "Well, _that_ happened. But hey! Who needs to steer to fly?"

"Launchpaaaaad!" Scrooge scolded, even as they plunged rapidly downward, spiralling out of control toward the ground.

Fenton frantically wrapped his arms around Scrooge's seat, and Scrooge as well in the process, his life flashing before his eyes- wow, there really hadn't been a whole lot to see. He would have told Scrooge how much he loved him in their last moments, but he couldn't stop screaming long enough.

The ground broke their fall, but unfortunately, it also broke their helicopter. The landing was indeed rough, just as Launchpad had promised, but after bouncing and skidding across the previously unmarred field, they came to a stop at last.

All three stumbled out, Scrooge stumbling out the driver side, as his door had been jammed badly in the fall, on trembling knees. Aside from being shaken up and bounced around from the impact, they all seemed to be in living condition.

The smoking pile of metal behind them was a different story. Launchpad stood looking at it, thoughtfully. Or more likely, thoughtlessly, Scrooge thought to himself.

"Well... it looks as though you're not goin' anywhere in that, Launchpad. Might as well come with us."

Unseen by either of them, Fenton bit down on his tie, and banged his head against a nearby tree a few times.

"You mean to check out those caves? Ehhh, I like boring old holes in the ground just as much as the next guy, but you two go on ahead. Somebody should stay here and look after the helicopter. Er, or what's left of it, anyway."

"Suit yourself, laddie. C'mon, Fenton, if we start now we'll get to the cave by day break. Grab our supplies and let's get goin'."

Quickly saluting, Fenton went through the crash site to find their climbing gear- as well as grabbing the briefcase with the Gizmo suit. Scrooge was already a good yard or so away and the middle aged mallard would have to sprint to catch up. Giving Launchpad one final look as he ran off, he could have _swore_ he saw the pilot throw him a wink.

* * *

Climbing wasn't exactly Fenton's fortee. Mostly because he had no reason to- the most experience he had was the time he and Scrooge had to climb to the top of the mountains of Tra-la-la in order to save the old duck's nephews from a terrible cagey fate. And even then he had been winded the whole while. THOUGH, Fenton had to admit, at least this time he wasn't freezing his tail feathers off.

Speaking of tail feathers, Fenton also couldn't complain about his view. Up directly above him McDuck was busy trailing their way as he hammered in a new piton every couple yards. He was also busy instructing Fenton all the places he had climbed before so that the lad could follow behind him easily. Crackshell, however, must have not been moving fast enough as he threw a glare down at him.

"Would you quit your daydreaming and focus! We won't get there until next Thursday by THIS rate!"

"Oh!" That lit a fire under Fenton's tail feathers. He scrambled to catch up. "Sorry! Guess I got all caught up in the scenery. Uh, say Scrooge..."

"Hm?" He asked, distractedly. He had spotted a promising looking ledge up ahead, and marked it as their goal.

"How come no one's ever explored these caves before? I mean, they couldn't have, right? Or they would've found the sword for sure!"

"Aye. Most people just don't have an adventurin' spirit these days." Scrooge's tone spoke of great tragedy as he said this, but it changed in seconds as he added, "Especially when it comes to chasin' fairy tales! Hahaha! Their loss is our gain!"

Fenton tried to smile, but it quivered and died on his bill, as he watched Scrooge hoist himself up over a ledge and disappear. When he put it like that, this trip didn't exactly sound promising. Scrooge's half mad cackle as he said it made Fenton wonder even more.

"Besides!"

Fenton yelped and almost lost his footing, when Scrooge's head popped back over the ledge, followed by a hand to help him up.

"Some of these caves are natural mazes. It's no wonder no one's found anything!"

"Y'don't say..." Fenton mumbled, as the two of them got him over the ledge, too. The Gizmo suit in the case strapped to his back wasn't making the climb any easier. He was relieved to see the gaping cave entrance ahead of them.

"Should we try here? It's a good place to start, isn't it?" He asked, hopefully. Scrooge smiled when he saw the glint in Fenton's eyes. He was ready for an adventure, alright.

"As good a place as any!" Scrooge agreed, and wasted no more time in heading for the cave. Once at the head of the entrance the old mallard instructed Fenton to take out their hard hats from the bags- they would be needing the lights from them to see into the near pitch blackness of the cavern. Satisfied that they were prepared well enough, Scrooge turned on his helmet and trekked inside.

Fenton was close on his heels. Perhaps a little too close as the moment McDuck stopped to survey the area the accountant walked straight into his back. Scrooge oofed as the wind was knocked out of him, and looked down at Fenton who was now on the cave floor.

"I want you close, but not THAT close. Watch where you're goin', would ya'? The deeper we go, the less likely I'll have the luxury of topplin' over safely."

A grin and another quick salute served as both an apology and confirmation. Fenton was confident he could do as he was asked; personal space was something he had been working on.

This was a natural cave, alright, and it was silent, save for their echoing footfalls and water dripping from the numerous stalactites hanging from the ceiling. The lights on their helmets did little to permeate the darkness, and Fenton couldn't decide it he was shivering from the cold, or from fear.

The path they took seemed random and winding to the younger duck, but he was sure Scrooge knew what he was doing. There was no way they'd end up lost in these dark, spooky caves, cold and hungry, free eats for whatever gruesome beasts lurked in its cavernous shadows.

Or so he kept telling himself.

Fenton had been busy looking down so he wouldn't trip up in holes or over rocks, when he failed to notice Scrooge had come to a complete stop. He did, however, note that the older duck threw his arms out widely as he backed the two of them up.

" _Fenton!_ "

"Sorry!" The accountant cried. "But, uh, why'd we stop?"

"I'll show ye why, laddie." Scrooge said, as he dug into the bags and pulled out a flair. Fenton found himself covering his eyes as his paramore set it off- the cavern flashing with a blinding light. Once his eyes adjusted, however, he was able to see why McDuck had stopped him.

Fenton gulped as he stared at the large hole that took away their path.

"Blatherin' Blatherskite! Talk about a drop, huh?" He paused as a realization hit him, his body drooping in defeat. "Guess that means we gotta go back and try another path then…"

" _Hmm_ ," the old mallard hummed to himself as he continued to stare down the black pit, scratching his chin. "Maybe not. My intuition is telling me this is _exactly_ the sort of place I'd hide something I didn't want it t'be found."

As Scrooge was preparing their gear for the descent into the inky void of the canyon, understanding was dawning across Fenton's face.

" _Oooooooh._ Hey, you're right!" Fenton was grinning again, his passion for this expedition reignited. "Boy, you sure are great at this adventure stuff, Scroogey."

Scrooge laughed. He didn't chuckle, it was an honest to goodness laugh, and to Fenton, nothing ever sounded as sweet.

"I'd certainly hope so! I was spelunking in caves while you were still spelunking in your diaper. Now, I'll head down first. You follow as soon as you're ready, alright?"

Scrooge, by this point, was all hooked up and already hanging off the side of the cliff. Fenton glanced down into the abyss, and tried swallowing passed the lump in his throat.

"Joy." He squeaked.

Admittedly, going down was much easier than climbing. And in fact, once he pushed the fact he was traveling straight into the unknown, Fenton was able to turn it into a game of sorts. Every time he jumped from the wall he would count how many seconds it took before his webbed feet would land back onto the wall again. His record so far was 3.24 seconds.

It only took about thirty minutes before both the ducks found themselves on the cave floor. Scrooge , after unhooking himself from the pulley, dug through their supplies once more before pulling out an extra flair. This time it was the old mallard's turn to find himself surprised as elaborate murals surrounded them- showing pictures of dragons, amazing battles, and all sorts of other adventures. Scrooge had to catch his glasses before they fell, because of his astonishment.

" _Bless me bagpipes_ , the Legend of King Arthur!" Scrooge ran across the cave, straight to a picture of a large glowing blue sword that was dead center of the cavern- bouncing in glee. " And _this_ must be excaliber! We MUST be on the right track!"

Fenton gazed at the walls, himself, in an awe that existed for a slightly different reason than Scrooge's.

"Wow! It's just like the TV show!" He lifted his lighted helmet to get a better look, and scratched his head. "Well, uh, maybe a more, interpretive dance type version of it, anyhow."

Scrooge paid little attention to Fenton's comments, and instead ran a finger over the bright blue paint that made up the sword. Was it paint at all? Scrooge had his doubts, considering how well it had been preserved; by the looks of it, it hadn't faded at all! But what else could it be?

As if sensing his thoughts, the sword seemed to glow faintly. Scrooge gasped, and took a step back, to make sure he wasn't seeing things. He was vaguely aware of Fenton pacing back and forth behind him, along the wall.

Scrooge's grin slipped as the sword once again fell dim. He glanced back, to ask Fenton if he had seen it, but his exploration buddy was a good ways away.

"Fenton!" Scrooge called, careful not to be too loud. A cave-in seemed unlikely here, but sometimes it was best to be cautious.

Fenton was jogging back to Scrooge soon enough, hoping he had found something more interesting that cave paintings. "Yeah?" he asked, excitedly.

Fenton slowed to a stop, and Scrooge spun around, as a cold blue glow lit up the darkness around them. They didn't even need the flair or their helmet lights anymore. The sword on the wall now lit up like a nightlight. Without taking his eyes off of the wonder, Scrooge signalled for Fenton to come closer. Slowly, like a child in a dream, Fenton plodded forward, eyes large, blue light reflecting in them.

As he got closer, the light grew in intensity. When he got close enough, he reached out his hand, and placed it on the sword- instead of cold stone, he felt warmth. It was only the rumbling and shaking that snapped him out of his stupor.

"What's going on? Did I break it? Should we run?" Fenton cried over the rumbling.

"No, lad, look!"

In front of them, the sword on the wall began to grow, distort, until finally it was no longer a sword at all. A bright blue archway- like a door- now stood where it used to be. When the glow faded, the doorway stood open and inviting.

The two blinked at the newly made door in silence. However, it didn't last long as Scrooge was the first to break the silence. He cleared his throat, before walking forward.

"Well, I suppose we better get goin'."

Fenton was flabbergasted.

"Wh, what?! You- you mean you're just gonna walk RIGHT into a hole that wasn't here, but now is?! We don't even know where that thing _leads_!"

"Sure we do, laddie. It leads to the sword." A pause, as the older mallard looked back at his significant other coyly. "That is, _unless you rather I go on ahead an' you stay here…_ "

That seemed to be just the motivation Fenton needed to get himself in gear, as he puffed up his chest and started marching forward.

"Nope! I'm good. Let's get goin', yeah? Not like we go all day, Scroogey!"

Walking through the tunnel was a very strange sensation, as the walls seem to vibrate around them. There was almost an electric feel in the air, like walking on a carpet in winter in just socks. That feeling of being charged and that it could set something off at any moment. It was both nerve wracking and equally exciting.

Once they reached the end of the tunnel, the cavern they entered blinded them with a sudden flash of blue light. Both the ducks had to guard themselves and squint in order to see passed it. Luckily for them it didn't last long, as suddenly the glow became tolerable, and they were finally able to see where they were.

Scrooge gasped as he pointed across the room. There, up a double sided rock staircase carved into the cave, was the sword they were looking for- handle sticking out from a slab of stone that was obviously the blue lightsource.

"There… there it is! I KNEW IT! I knew excalibur had t'be more than just a thing of legend!"

"Wow!" Fenton breathed. "I didn't know it'd be a magic sword for _real_!"

The light continued to dim, as if realizing it no longer needed to guide them. Scrooge finished his awe-filled gazing long before Fenton did, and dashed toward the sword, up the stairs. Fenton shook his awe away and trotted after him, stopping at the bottom of the stairs.

After examining the hilt thoroughly, walking all the way around it, Scrooge grasped it firmly. As soon as he was convinced that the old sword wasn't going to come apart in his hand, he began to tug. Then yank. This thing was stuck but good! Scrooge gasped, and rested against the cave wall.

"Fenton..." he called down the stairs. "Come help me pull this stubborn beauty free, would ya?"

Fenton Crackshell didn't need to be told twice, as he did a mad dash up the staircase. Going onto the other side of the sword, the middle aged duck grabbed at a free part of the handle.

"Count of three?" He inquired.

" _Aye_ , count of three." Scrooge paused, taking a breath. "One, two-"

"WAIT! Are we going on three? Or are we doing the ol' 'one, two, three, pull' situation?"

" _Oh, for goldurn's sake_ \- JUST PULL ALREADY!"

And pull he did as the two began pulling and tugging with all their might. It didn't take long before Fenton was breaking out into a sweat, as he grunted a quip to his partner.

" _Really stuck in there, isn't it?"_

The sword slip a small fraction out of the stone, and this was enough to encourage the two as Scrooge cried out in excitement.

"It budged! Just keep pullin', laddie!"

And pull they did, with everything they had, and a little they didn't. All at once, the sword came free, sending the two ducks stumbling backward; but before they could hit the ground, a bright, blinding white light filled the cavern.

There was the echoing clatter of metal on rock, as the sword fell to the cave floor. The light dissipated, and save for the sword, the cavern was now empty, plummeted back into darkness, silence interrupted only by the drip, drip, dripping of a long forgotten natural cave.


	2. Adventure Finds Them

Falling onto the ground was never a pleasant experience, falling from the sky was even worse. Fenton Crackshell had been the first to connect with the ground and it was soon afterwards that his paramore was crashing on top of him- his soft body breaking Scrooge's fall. Fenton had found himself crying out in alarm more so than pain as the older duck was quick to get himself back to his feet.

It didn't take long for McDuck to notice that they were no longer in the cave anymore, and only a second longer to realize that something else was now missing.

"GAH! Me sword! Where is it?!" he asked as he looked around himself as his significant other was busy getting up on his own. "And where are WE for that matter?"

"I find, often times, 'where am I', is less relevant, than 'where am I going'."

Scrooge and Fenton spun around to give the newcomer, an old man clad in loose purple robes, a perplexed stare, as he strode on by, at a leisurely pace.

"Eh, pardon me?" Scrooge called out to him, when he realized the old man didn't plan on stopping to chat. "Does that mean you know where we happen t'be?"

The old man stopped, and slowly turned around. A long, scraggly beard hung from his bill, and tired, yet wise eyes peered out from under a pair of white, bushy eyebrows.

"Yes," he said simply. Silence hung among the three as the wanderer just looked at them calmly- perhaps as if he fell asleep with his eyes open. Fenton and Scrooge threw each other a look before the younger of the two decided to speak up.

"Er, do ya mind telling us? See, we're kinda lost here. As in, I honestly have NO idea where we are- I THOUGHT we were in a cave in Exmithel!"

"Exmouth," McDuck corrected with a sigh. "Really, Fenton, it's not that hard to say."

The old traveller smiled at their exchange, as a feathered hand went to stroke his tangled beard.

"No, I don't mind. But I don't believe I need to tell you that this isn't a cave. Right here and now has no name, besides 'road'." He nodded his head back to the path behind him. "That way, however, lies the village of Dobenshire. But, I don't think you'd want to go there. Hard times have fallen, and there is no say what sort of mischief strange travellers can get themselves into."

"Dobenshire!" Scrooge exclaimed, excitedly, skipping a lap around Fenton, before grabbing him by his shoulders, and shaking him a little. "Did ya hear that, laddie? I'd bet a pretty penny that our sword lies down that very road!"

"Yeah?" Fenton seemed just as excited, as he gazed down the very road in which Scrooge was pointing. "Then what are we waitin' for! Let's go get you that sword!"

Scrooge laughed, and slapped Fenton on his back- or rather, the case covering his back. It looked as if the Gizmosuit had made the trip with them- it may prove useful, but Scrooge allowed himself to hope otherwise.

"That's the adventurin' spirit! Dobenshire, he we come!"

"Again!" Fenton added, cheerfully. As they set off, he remembered the old man, and glanced back. The road behind them was empty. The middle aged duck would have taken time to question this, if his partner- who was already a good way down the road ahead- hadn't rushed him along.

Fenton had a feeling that wasn't going to be the strangest part of their trip, anyway.

* * *

It didn't take long before the wilderness began to look more inviting and orderly as the ducks traveled along. Passing by wooden fences with apple orchards led to man-made stone bridges over running streams. And in practically no time at all they were on the outskirts of a village, where an old tavern and inn stood inviting.

Or maybe not so inviting, as the moment they got close enough they could hear the sounds of yelling coming from inside. Scrooge didn't seem so concerned about it, as he didn't even stop and was heading straight towards the door.

The older mallard only found himself stopping when Fenton threw himself in front of him.

"Fenton! What in the name of mother McDuck's stockings-"

"Uh, sorry Scroogey! It's just, well…"

"WELL," the billionair asked, obviously annoyed. "Spit it out already!"

"Are you SURE it's such a good idea to just walk right in there? No tellin' what the locals are like, right? I mean, this sure ain't Kansas… or Duckburg, for that matter!"

Scrooge scoffed, and rolled his eyes.

"Bah. There hasn't been a rabble-rouser or curmudgeon yet I haven't been able t'take."

He ignored Fenton's "buts" and firmly pushed him aside, striding confidently into the place, his accountant scurrying after him with a fair bit less confidence. The moment he stepped foot inside, the noise level decreased rapidly, until it mostly consisted of fevered whispering. All eyes were on them, two strangers in an even stranger land.

Scrooge cleared his throat, and removed his hat, now perhaps slightly intimidated; there were more people in there than he had first figured, and all of them were staring. Fenton remained half-cowering behind him.

"Eh, pardon our intrusion, gentlemen..." he spotted a few, decidedly ghastly, women among them. "and lasses. My name is Scrooge McDuck, and this is my... good friend, Fenton Crackshell. We're travellers, explorers, from far, far away-"

A collective gasp filled the room, and Scrooge's eyes darted around, wildly. What had he said?

" _It's them!_ " someone whispered.

" _Yes, it must be! The princess said they would arrive!_ " squeaked another.

"Yes, yes! Travellers from a far away land, it must be them, it must!" This one hadn't even bothered keeping quiet.

" _I beg your pardon_ ," the old duck hollered in alarm, as people began to surround the two newcomers- the fact they had been expected wasn't exactly sitting well with him. He needed answers. "What are ye' goin' on about, now? _Princess, who_?"

Answers, however, were not given as people began to come in even closer. While Scrooge was ready to throw punches if needed, Fenton was busy biting his fingertips as he tried to figure out what to do. These crazed villagers were going to maul them- tear them limb from limb! Maybe they were all part of a cult that sacrificed strangers to their 'princess goddess' in order to bargain for a bountiful harvest. Anything was possible! Oh, if only there was something Fenton could do to save them!

It was in that moment that an imaginary light bulb went off in the middle aged duck's head as a realization hit him.

"Never fear, Scroogey!" Fenton cried, as he got between his beloved and the villagers. "I'll take care of these trouble making hoodlums- _BLATHERING BLATHERSKITE_!"

There came a thud from the case on Fenton's back, and he leapt into the air to meet the encasing suit- that never came. Instead, he was met with a sound not unlike a car stalling, and he landed on the floor on his tush.

"Heh... must've forgotten to charge it before we left..." Fenton squeaked meekly, as he watched the crowd grow ever closer. Scrooge shook his head, almost embarrassed.

Thankfully, the hands on his shoulders were Scrooges, and he helped the poor lad to his feet. Fenton immediately grabbed the useless case from behind his back, using it as a shield against the mob-like crowd.

"Back! Back, I say!"

This did stop the people from advancing, as they exchanged confused glances and muttered to one another. When one of them spoke, they bypassed Fenton completely, speaking over his shoulder to Scrooge.

"Sir, I'm not sure what your..." he stole a quick glance at Fenton. "...jester, I presume? Is doing, or what he is attempting to convey, but you really must go see the princess! She will explain everything, I assure you!"

"Oh for the love of- _Princess who_?!" Scrooge demanded. He was quickly losing his patience, and any fear he had felt over these people had completely vanished.

"Princess Millicent!" someone in the crowd exclaimed. The others nodded and muttered in agreement. They must be from far away, if they had never heard of their princess!

"Yes, Princess Millicent. She foretold of your arrival, We have been waiting for far too long!"

As this man spoke, he was steadily shoving the two out of the tavern door. Begrudgingly, Scrooge let himself be shoved; it was obvious they weren't going to get any help in there, anyway.

"Please! You must go now!" He told them, once they were back out on the street. He pointed across the town, where a tall castle loomed over all of the other buildings. "To the castle! You can't miss it."

"I dunno, Scroogey, " Fenton whispered next to his partner, consulting him. "Do you really think we oughta?"

"What other choice do we have?" Scrooge replied, already walking ahead towards the large structure in the distance. "It's the only clue we have about how t'get back home and away from this Renaissance of a disaster."

It was well past noon by the time they made it to the castle, the journey there being filled with people among the streets gawking and staring at them. If the middle aged mallard was honest, it made him feel like some sort of carnival attraction- come one come all to look at the freaks from the future! Just a penny for a peep- or whatever strange old money they used in this foriegn time and place. It did, however, make Fenton feel better to be next to Scrooge- who walked about with all the confidence in the world. This was a man on a mission, a man that wouldn't let anything get in his way. It put the younger duck's mind at ease, in a way, and gave him the strength to carry on- all the way up towards the entrance where they demanded to see the owner of the palace.

The guards, however, didn't seemed to be phased.

"Nobody's allowed to see the princess," the right guard said lazily from under his helmet- hiding their face. "Court is only opened to the public at the first of the month."

Fenton instantly slumped in defeat beside Scrooge.

"Aww, well phooey. Looks like we'll be standing here awhile, ey, Scrooge?"

Scrooge didn't even glance at him. He was busy glaring at the guard.

"Now you listen here you disrespectful galoot; me and my... _partner_ , here, didn't get sucked into the past and then walk all the way here, just to be turned away at the gate! We were told to visit the princess and I'm not leaving until you let us in!"

The guard lifted his helmet and looked both of them up and down.

"Oh. Well why didn't you say you were from the future?" His tone was deadpan, bored. "The princess has been waiting for you."

It took some slight prodding with his spear to wake up the second guard, but soon the enormous castle doors swung open.

"Welcome, I guess."

"Much obliged, gentlemen!" Fenton relied, cheerfully, as they entered the castle. Both ducks flinched when the doors slammed shut behind them, and they exchanged nervous glances that were accompanied by nervous chuckles.

"Helloooo?" Fenton called out. "Is anyone here? Any princesses in need of assistance, perchance?"

The only reply was his own echo.

"Huh, that's strange. This place is awfully, uh, empty for a royal castle, isn't it?"

"Nothing wrong with keeping your furnishing to a minimal, in order to save a buck or two," the older mallard retorted, continuing along. "Why, I'd cut back if I didn't need t'keep my mansion looking impressive for the impressionable business types I have t'associate with. Luckily I wrote it off as a business expense AGES ago."

"Can they even DO that here?" Fenton flinched as he walked by a suit of armor, his own reflection catching him off guard. "YIPE! I wish we would just find this lady already so we can get outta here!"

"Not lady- princess." Both men turned around with a jolt as a young duck woman appeared behind them. She brushed her long flowing blonde locks to the side, as she sighed softly. It was Scrooge who spoke up first for the party of two, as he took off his hat in greeting.

"Princess Millicent, I presume? Sorry t'barge in like this, but some unhappy tavern folk sent us t'see you."

"More like demanded," Fenton mumbled under his breath. The princess raised a brow at this.

"Oh, I can't imagine why-" the young woman's face lit up in recognition as her bill stretched into the widest of grins. She clapped her hands together excitedly. "Oh! Can it be? Are you the heroes from a far away land and time that the prophecy has foretold about? Are you here to finally rescue us from our troubles?"

Scrooge frowned at this.

"Troubles, what troubles? We were told ye' might know how t'help US with OUR situation. I hardly think-"

"OH, but sir, you must!" Princess Millicent interrupted, startling McDuck as she grabbed both his hands to plead with him. "We are in dire need of your assistance! For so long my kingdom has been attacked and viciously torn asunder- the people are losing their homes and crops as every day we live in fear that the evil dragon of the land will return and finish us off for good! Please! You must stay and help!"

Fenton surprised himself by being pleased when Scrooge, politely but firmly, took his hands back from the woman..

"We'd love to, really, but we've got our own problems t'focus on! If we don't-"

"Get back home?" The princess interrupted, combing her fingers through her long hair. "Then fortune shines upon you!"

"We're not interested in your-" Scrooge's demeanor changed in an instant. "Did you say, _fortune_?"

"Uh oh... I know that look..." Fenton muttered to himself.

"Yes, fortune! You see, the dragon I would have you brave men slay is a greedy monster. It hordes and protects a vast amount of unclaimed treasure! And, should you be successful in slaying the beast, its long dormant magic will send you on your way to home!"

Fenton raised a brow and scratched his head.

"Huh? Well that doesn't sound right! You can't get much more dormant than dead!"

Scrooge shot Fenton a glare, and elbowed him.

"Shush your bill a minute, would ya?" He smiled at the princess. "Ah now, about the treasure... what's the catch?"

"You mean besides the terrifying, monstrous dragon part?" Fenton replied. He was ignored.

Princess Millicent's expression turned mournful. She walked deeper into the long room, before plopping down into large and single throne chair- her pink dress fluffing up around her. Her voice somber, she carried on.

"I'm afraid that the dragon also protects the only weapon capable of destroying it. After King Arthur's sword was thrown back into the enchanted waters of legend, the dragon- hearing an old wise woman tell of his own death at the hands of the weapon, stole Excalibur and has horded it ever since." The woman sighed again, this time extra loudly and dramatically as she slumped into her chair in a rather unlady-like fashion. The old mallard, however, perked up as the princess deflated.

"Excalibur? What luck, just the sword I've been looking for!"

"A little TOO convenient if you ask me." Fenton oofed as he was jabbed softly in the stomach again by Scrooge's elbow. The stern look he was given did not deter him as the middle aged duck protested. "But, Scroogey! Don't ya think all this magic stuff seems a lil' Too… too… Too SOMETHING? Here we get thrown back into the past, and the first thing they have us do is work. For all we know, SHE sent us here!"

The billionaire shook his head slowly.

"You disappoint me, lad. Now where's your sense of adventure? Here we are, on a quest of magic, bravery, and fortune… And you just want t' run away with your tail feathers tucked between your legs? That's just not the McDuck way!" Before Fenton could defend himself, Scrooge brought his attention back on the princess. He cleared his throat. "AH, yes, so princess, dear… Just where will we be findin' this here dragon?"

The princess' face lit up with delight, and she clasped her hands together.

"So you'll do it! Wonderful! Now..." A flick of her wrist, and a rolled up map fell from her sleeve... or did it appear out of thin air? No, that didn't make any sense. The map was unrolled, and she held it up for the travellers to see.

"I fear it won't be a short journey, nor will it be an easy one. You must travel to the other side of these lands, through a dangerous mountain pass, across a raging river, through dense jungle marshland, inhabited by unsavory monsters... and then, you should reach the cave where the dreadful dragon slumbers."

Scrooge leaned in to study the map, and the crudely drawn cave under her pointer finger, an angry looking dragon poking its head out of the entrance.

"Well that seems like an awful long way to travel just to ruin a few crops..." Fenton offered.

Scrooge waved him off, taking the offered map from the princess instead.

"Bah! Who cares about that! It's terrorizin', and it's standin' in the way of what's rightfully mine." The old mallard was ready to leave the castle entirely, already walking towards the exit. He had the info he needed, and a means of getting it- no reason to lollygag about! Scrooge was stopped, however as Princess Millicent called out to him.

"Wait, oh knight!" Hopping from her throne, she quickly untied the green medallion that was hanging from around her neck, as she handed it to the old mallard. "Please, take this! It holds magic bestowed upon it by a powerful enchantress, and can be used to keep in touch if anything goes wrong."

Scrooge eyed it for a moment, checking out the green jewel in its center, before shrugging and giving it to his significant other to hold- Fenton nearly dropping it as it was given to him unexpectedly. The billionaire cleared his throat before addressing the royalty once more.

"Aye, thank ye', your highness. Now, if there's nothing else…"

"Nono, that is all! Again, thank you so much! Do take care, and god speed!"

She bowed, giving the smaller duck a quick peck on the cheek. The younger male of the group was shocked, but didn't get the chance to work up any other emotions before the princess kissed him as well.

"Golly! I… I don't know what to say!" Fenton stammered, rubbing his cheek- face flushed in the slightest. "First time I've been bestowed royal blessings! … Or any blessings, for that matter!"

Scrooge rolled his eyes, but it was evident he was amused nevertheless as he grabbed onto the other duck's hand and began dragging him towards the door. "C'mon, Crackshell. Before I get green in the gills."

"From envy?" Fenton asked hopefully, his earlier astonishment turning to affection as he followed the older man- and in all honesty, would follow Scrooge to the end of the earth if he so chose it. Scrooge chuckled.

"Nae, from nausea. You always DID have a habit of sap drippin' from your pores. I nearly forgotten about it."

The princess watched as the two left, arguing affectionately amongst each other, as she kept her eyes locked on the two before they were gone for good. There was no doubt in her mind that these strange men were just the ones she had been waiting for. The ones that would finally put all the pieces together and bring a new order to Dobenshire as they knew it. She smirked.

"My heroes."


	3. Raising Roofs and Relationships

Fenton Crackshell was quickly discovering that adventuring wasn't exactly like the way they showed it in the pictures. It involved lots and lots of walking, apparently. And just lulls of quiet moments. ' _Must be the parts that get cut out of the movies_ ,' the mallard mused to himself. ' _Not exactly exciting and actioned packed, is it?_ ' Fenton would have tried focusing on the scenery, but seeing as they were pretty much coming back from where they started from there wasn't anything new to see. People chatting here and there in the streets, a cat rubbed up against a man's leg as he whittled down what looked like to be a chair, kids pretended to sword fight with sticks… he supposed THAT was interesting. Fenton found himself grateful when they finally left the village and took a turn on a road they hadn't travelled before. At least that was something!

Maybe it would have been more enjoyable if Scrooge didn't seem to be deeply engrossed in checking their whereabouts every few minutes. The old mallard was focused- maybe even more so than Fenton had ever seen him before. This wasn't the fun having spirit of adventure duck he had started the trip with. This was going into 'annoyed and angry' territory, which wasn't setting right. Fenton cleared his throat, before deciding to speak up.

"So, uh… That must be some interesting map ya got there, Scroogey."

The use of his nickname seemed to break whatever spell had befallen the old man as he tore his gaze away from the map- looking as if he had nearly forgotten he wasn't alone. He snorted, before looking back at it with a nod of his head.

"Aye, suppose ye' can say that. I'm mostly just concerned by the distance," Scrooge explained. "All the equipment we packed was left back in the caves."

"Back in the present, even," Fenton chipped in. Scrooge nodded again.

"That too. And while I have some money on hand, I hardly think it'll be much use. Not that I want t'spend it, mind you. But at least then we could've had SOMETHING left to barter with."

The younger mallard deflated some at this news.

"Oh, right… When you say it like that, it makes it seem impossible that we're gonna make it to tomorrow- let alone to fight some dragon."

This, of all things, got a chuckle out of Scrooge as he patted his significant other on the back.

"No, not impossible. Just makes our endeavours harder. But cheer up, lad, that's what adventure is all about! Finding ways to outsmart the odds. Why, this is hardly the first time I've traveled with nothing but the clothes on me back- and I'm sure it won't be the last!"

That thought was, at the very least, comforting. But being with Scrooge in general was comforting. Scrooge had a lifetime worth of experience... heck, maybe even two life times! It was nice to know that, no matter how ill-prepared Fenton felt in the face of life itself, Scrooge always knew just what to do.

"It looks like there's a little farm up there!" Fenton pointed out. Scrooge squinted at the map.

"Oh? And where do you see that?"

Fenton reached out, tugged the map down out of Scrooge's line of sight, and pointed up the road.

"Right up there! See? Maybe someone there can help us out."

Scrooge shook his head, and rolled the map up.

"I doubt it, but it's on our way, I suppose."

The closer they got, however, the two began to notice something was amiss. The trees and ground around the area was charred, as if someone had went through and sprayed about with a flamethrower all willy-nilly. The air was thick with the aroma of burned wood- very reminiscent of their times spent in front of the fireplace back home in Duckburg. When they got close enough they could see that the farm they had been traveling towards was in an even worse state, as half of the structure was burned down completely. Outside, in the fields, were a dog couple and their three children of various ages. The wife was busy chasing after one of them, a boy wearing nothing but his knickers who couldn't have been more than two, as she held onto a crying baby in her arms. The oldest son and their father were busy trying to saw a log. The farmer stopped, however, as he noticed the travelers approaching.

"May we help you, folks?"

Before Scrooge could say 'no', obvious that the family were in a rough spot and were in no position to help them, Fenton beat him too it.

" _Blathering blatherskite_! What the heck happened here?!"

"Oh, just the dragons again." The son replied, as if dragons were as common as coyotes.

"Dragons?! As in _ssss_? As in more than one?!" Fenton cried, quickly losing his calm. The princess hadn't said anything about multiple dragons!

"Uh huh." The dad replied, simply. "Seems like every other month they come in from the East and destroy our crops, burn down our barn, just for the fun of it, too."

"Ah, well, that's too bad. Not t'worry, though, it just so happens we're on our way right now, to-"

Scrooge was cut off when he felt Fenton tugging on his sleeve. He turned to him, irritably, to see a heartbroken expression on his face.

"Scroogey... we can't just leave these poor folks here like this! Where will they sleep tonight! How will they go on! Just look at them! They need our help!"

The wife, by this point, had caught the running child, and stood there, cradling one in each of the youngest children regarded them with the same, tearful eyes that Fenton currently mother of the children, worn and looking like she could do with a few years of sleep, silently watched the old duck as well as she waited to see what would be his verdict.

In any case, Scrooge McDuck was not deterred. Not in the slightest. Rolling his eyes, he addressed the other mallard next to him as he crossed his arms stubbornly.

"Now look here, Crackshell, we don't have TIME for this tom foolery! Every minute we waste, is another minute of wasted energy!"

The farmer, who had been watching their exchange, scratched the underside on his chin where his slightly scruffy beard rubbed against his neck. He hummed in thought.

"Noticed you don't got much. Neither do we, but I'm sure we got a few things we could spare for some good ol' fashion hard work."

"Thanks, but no thanks. We can handle this on our own, c'mon Fenton!"

Scrooge grabbed onto the younger man's arm as he began to drag him away. Fenton did his best to dig his webbed feet into the grounds as he tried to protest.

"But what about food! Neither of us have eaten since yesterday! We could at least work for a meal and a lil' something for the road! Don't be so stubborn!"

The billionaire growled, letting go of the other man- causing Fenton to crash to the ground. Scrooge glared down at him, waving the map as he scolded.

"I said NO! What about 'no' donnea understand?!"

Right when Fenton opened his mouth to say something, to plead one final time- surely his paramour had to understand- the old mallard's stomach beat him to it. Growling loudly for all to hear, Scrooge, with slight embarrassment, put a hand over his stomach.

It was the wife who spoke next, breaking the awkward silence.

"I've been making cabbage stew all morning. It should be ready to eat."

It wasn't fair! Fenton always somehow managed to pull the votes, whether it was here, or back home with the nephews. Now even his own stomach was against him! But Scrooge had to admit, a free meal was his favorite kind of meal.

Well, this might not be free, _per se_ , but it wouldn't put a dent in his wallet, in any case.

"Alright, have it your way. We'll stay for lunch, patch up the barn..." He cringed as another plank crashed to the ground. "And then be on our way. That's my final offer."

Fenton grabbed Scrooge's hand, and shook it a little too enthusiastically, as if he had actually just made a deal.

"Deal! Sold! No checks on Tuesdays! What I mean to say is, thanks, Scroogey!"

While it seemed like there was no way to top the middle aged mallard's gratitude, the family came pretty close. They had managed to save the table from their home, and it was evident how thankful the wife was as she insisted on the two of them eating bowl after bowl of boiled cabbage. By the second helping, Scrooge had to put his hands up in surrender, insisting they get to work and actually earn their meal. This, in turn, made the farmer happy as he decided what they could do.

"I imagine the misses could use help with the youngins, iffin you wouldn't mind, Mr. Crackshell." He paused, realizing something as he turned to the oldest among them. "Or would you prefer that, sir? I imagine lifting must be hard on ya, with age an' all that."

Scrooge scoffed.

"Trust me, laddie, I got more than enough muscle left in me to carry my own weight- _and then some_. Besides, if we want things done fast and efficiently, better to let me take the reigns rather than Fenton here."

"Hey! I take offense to that!" Fenton protested.

"Then don't. " Scrooge responded back. His tone was softer as he addressed the farmer yet again. "Besides, I happen t'know he's great with the wee ones. Me nephews would say he comes highly recommended."

Who could stay upset after something like that? Certainly not Fenton Crackshell.

"D'aww, well, _when you put it like that..._ " Fenton took the child that the wife had handed to him. It gurgled and cooed happily. Fenton smiled warmly back at them. "How could I say no!"

Scrooge and the farmer watched as their significant others walked off to watch after the kids.

"Nephews, huh?" The farmer asked, thoughtfully, after they were out of hearing distance. "Doesn't he have any youngins of his own? Doesn't he want 'em?"

A shudder ran down Scrooge's spine, the worry and fear clearly evident on his face.

"I certainly hope not! The nephews are a handful as it is!"

The farmer merely hummed thoughtfully over this, but said nothing more on the subject. Something McDuck was thankful for. Going over to the logs, where the saw was waiting for them, the two set to work cutting and measuring what they would need. In a way it reminded the old mallard of his times in the Klondike, when he built his log cabin by hand. It also reminded him of all the times he had watched his father and fellow neighbors work together when tragedy struck- where one would lose their homes to fire or strong winds. Scrooge couldn't help but smile as he watched the oldest son come up and remove the new planks they constructed, making him recall his own duties as the much larger and stronger men did the real work. Inbetween waiting to gather the wood, the lad spent his time searching through the remains of the home- pulling out old nails from the boards. Nails that were no doubt made by hand and hard to come by during that day in age, Scrooge quickly realized.

It was a couple hours in when the men decided to take a water break, Scrooge happily gulping down what was offered to him. His hat had long been put aside, and his sleeves rolled up as far as they would go, with his collar unbutton to let in more of slight breeze.

"Ya know, " the farmer said, interrupting the duck from his quiet drinking, "I really am mighty grateful you happen'd by. Just sawwin' down everything woulda taken ages." The man threw a look over to where the youngest children were laughing- Fenton happily chasing after them in what looked like a game of tag. "Both of ya, I reckon. Garnet-the wife- doesn't ever mention it… But I can tell the youngins run her down real good. N' she feels somethin' awful when she doesn't get t'all the chores."

Scrooge looked over to where the farmer's wife was busy doing the laundry, the slight breeze moving both her dress and the clothes hanging up on the line. The wife laughed gaily as the children were chased towards her, the toddler hiding behind his mother as Fenton loudly declared he was going to catch them.

The old mallard smiled fondly at the scene.

"Mother McDuck was like that, herself. Me and me sisters ran her rampant, Hardly gave her time n' the day for much else." He took another drink from the water bucket between them, drinking from the ladle. "That said, you can be thanking _him_." Scrooge nodded with his head at Fenton's direction. "Lad has a heart of gold n' can't stand t'see people suffering."

The farmer nodded, thoughtfully.

"It's a good rule to live by. He'll make a lucky lady very happy one day."

"Aye. He already has." Scrooge's smile fell the instant he realized he had just implied to himself that he was a lady. He didn't have time to correct himself, however.

"Ah, I see. I take it he ain't much for hard labor, though, huh?" The farmer drawled. Scrooge sighed.

"Well no, it isn't that, he's just ... well, he's more heart than smarts, as my mother used to say."

The man beside him apparently liked that, as he replied with a hearty chuckle.

"Ain't nothin' wrong with that, I suppose. I'm more brawn than brains, myself." The man smiled to show he was either kidding, or simply perfectly fine with it. "Besides, it's my wife who has all the smarts in the relationship. I guess we balance eachother out that way. Crops won't grow without the right amount of sun and rain... and I don't figure a marriage does much else without its own proper balance, neither."

Scrooge thought that tidbit of wisdom over, continuing to watch as the middle aged duck finally caught the toddler. The man was right about relationships needing balance in order to thrive- his own parents being the very definition of a loving and balanced relationship. It couldn't be helped when Scrooge began considering the nature of the thing between him and his younger partner, however. It was courtship, there was no doubt in that in his mind as- ever since the ordeal with the press- Scrooge had caved in and decided he was willing to see where it would lead. Not just as somebody putting up with it to spare a youthful idiot's feelings, nor as someone who was sticking up for his pride at the notion of being called a coward for turning down any sort of affection… But as a man willing to give a relationship a genuine try. Whether it ended up being the real deal, or a big flop as Fenton eventually realized he had been wrong all along in where he put his affections.

Scrooge didn't have time to ponder over the strange sadness he felt over the thought, as the farmer called him out of his musings.

"Reckon' we better get back to work, doubt much sunlight left."

And so they did. As nightfall neared, the children tired and, with no place to sleep for the night, gave into their exhaustion in their mother's arms. Well, one of them had; the youngest had passed out in Fenton's lap.

Which was probably for the best, Scrooge decided, because he could tell just by looking at him that he was dying to help them with the finishing touches. Instead, Fenton was stuck sitting in the field with the wife- Garnet, was it? - as they watched the rest of their home come together.

"He's strong for an older fellow, isn't he?"

The woman's voice started Fenton a little; he noticed she didn't speak much. He smiled at her.

"Oh, yeah, Scrooge is great! He's tough as nails! Brave as a bull and strong as an ox, too!"

"And stubborn as a mule, too, am I wrong?"

Fenton glanced at the woman, who was smiling. Oh. That eased his mind.

"Oh uh... well, you see..."

"It's alright. The best ones are always a little stubborn. And it takes quite the charmer to change their mind once it's been set."

The duck scoffed at this, waving the wife off playfully.

"Naaah. He's a good egg, and that's the hard boiled truth. I just knew from experience that the way to his heart was through his stomach, was all!"

"That seems to be the case most of the time, yes." She went back to watching her husband, as her hand lazily petting the head of the sleeping child in her lap. They both watched as boards were hammered together as they built the frames for the new home. Garnet spoke up again after a little while.

"They'll be finished soon. I don't suppose you two plan on setting back out at night, do you?"

"Well, gee, I hadn't thought of that! Night does get pretty dark, and me without so much as a flashlight!"

Garnet nodded, without taking her eyes off of the progress they men were making. She didn't know what a flashlight was, but wasn't in the mind to ask, either.

"I thought maybe that was the case. It's alright. The least we can do is give you two gentlemen room and board for the night. We don't have much, I'm afraid, but what we have, you're welcome to."

"Oh no, we couldn't!" Fenton protested. The look the wife gave him, though not inherently aggressive, was still equally stern. It was enough to make him gulp and pull at his collar. "Aheh, I mean, but we could if you insist."

It was a couple hours later, just as the sun was almost finished setting, when the home was complete. Scrooge, Fenton, and the family looked at the structure- the house gleaming in the fading light, making the place look all the more inviting. It made the old saying feel all the more true: there really was no place like home.

Fenton just hoped he and Scrooge would survive the journey long enough to get back to their own.


	4. Barter with the Blacksmith

Waking up before the morning sun wasn't exactly welcoming to either Scrooge nor Fenton- both their bodies still sore from all the walking and work done from the day before. However, it couldn't be helped as the home was one big room- and the noises made from the family starting their day was enough to wake them too. At the very least, it was pleasant to be roused from slumber with the air already thick with the smell of a good meal.

"I hope you boys don't mind porridge," Garnet called from a large stove in the corner of the room as the two ducks awoke. " Reinfried and junior are out taking care of some chores, but they should be back soon as well."

"Porridge sounds pretty good!" Fenton called, crawling out from under his borrowed blankets as he attempted to stand. " Haven't had any since my ma was doing the cooking, though. So it'll be a treat!"

The middle aged mallard had barely made it to his feet before he was tackled down to the ground again. Fenton oofed as he was playfully attacked by the toddler, who laughed at the fact they could make the man make funny noises.

The wife, however, was not as amused.

"Thomas! You leave that poor man be!"

"Pah-shaw and phooey!" Fenton declared, lifting the child up above him, as he remained on the floor. "I've taken worse body blows than that in my day!"

Fenton sat up, and he winced as his back cracked.

"Heh. 'Course, I was a lot younger back in the day, too!"

Garnet gave a polite smile at this. Scrooge scowled and rolled his eyes. Pah. Like he knew about being old.

Breakfast passed by in relative silence. No spoken words took place, and there was a feeling of unspoken rightness about that. Scrooge was thankful that Fenton, though normally ignorant to unspoken boundaries, nevertheless seemed to feel and heed it, as well.

He just wished Fenton had also known it was rude to slurp his porridge so loudly.

After breakfast was done, and the dishes washed, another spoken heaviness hung in the air; it was time for Scrooge and Fenton to move on. The husband approached them to wish them well on their journey.

"Pardon if it ain't my business to be askin'..." he said. "but y'all seem to be travelling awfully light." He nodded his head toward the suitcase that held the Gizmosuit inside, which was currently leaned up against the wall.

"You folks sure you've got enough to get by on?" His wife finished.

"I suppose we could use a little grub for the road," Fenton thought aloud, before giving a pause as he sheepishly added. "Aheh… That is, if ya got any to spare, of course."

The duck barely finished talking before the woman of the house went off and began shoving as much food as she could into a piece of white cloth. As she packed, the farmer scratched his chin in lazy thought. It didn't last for long, before he casually put in his own two cents.

"Might as well pack in some wheat, too." The dog man put his attention back on the men. "Fer selling along the way. Like I said before, we ain't got much, but that should at least getcha somethin'."

Scrooge nodded his head in understanding. He had studied the map earlier and it showed there was another village a little ways along, one the two of them would have to go through anyway. There was a chance they could find someone there to do business with. Ah, business- finally something he could actually enjoy. There was always something nice about getting to use one's gifts, after all.

The old mallard was brought out of his thoughts by Garnet's return, as she delicately handed the bundle to the younger duck.

"May this get you far."

And it was with that the two said their goodbyes, as they were greeted by the rising sun.

"Hey, Scroogey?" Fenton asked, as they made their way down the cobble path. Scrooge sighed- he knew the morning stillness, and its delightful silence, was too good to last.

"Aye, what is it?"

"Any thoughts on the whole, multiple dragons, thing? I mean, taking down a dragon is just what a couple of heroing heroes do, no sweat!" Fenton stopped here to gulp loudly, and seemed to shrink into himself.

"But two? Or three, or four, or more? I just don't know!"

It was obvious to Scrooge that his companion was beginning to panic. And why not? The older duck had to admit, the odds weren't looking to be in their favor. He stopped, placed a hand on each of his shoulders, and shook him lightly until he seemed to come to his senses- or whatever senses Fenton Crackshell still had, anyhow.

"I don't care if there ends up being a thousand dragons." He told him, sternly. "Treasure doesn't come cheap, and it's the adventure that makes it so grand. Besides... would Gizmoduck flee in the face of danger?"

Fenton looked back at Scrooge, sadly, and hoisted the suitcase he was still lugging around.

"Does it matter? Gizmoduck's about as useful as a sponge in a sinking ship right about now!"

The middle aged duck was quick to realize that was not a suitable answer as the half lidded expression of mild annoyance he received showcased that.

"Ye DO realize you ARE Gizmoduck, don't you?"

Fenton stared and blinked a couple of times, confused by what that had to do with anything.

"Well, SURE," he began slowly, his tone not completely convinced. "But what I meant, was that without the suit-"

"Is still you," Scrooge interrupted. He sighed, trying for a less aggressive tactic as he forced his own frustrations down to get his own point across. In a much more softer tone, he continued. "The suit may let you do great things, Fenton, but the duck underneath the suit has some accomplish under HIS belt as well. Where was Gizmoduck when this poor old miser and his wealth were at the hands of a hairbrained mechanical menace wantin' t'boil us down to bits?"

"I, _well_ -"

Fenton didn't get to finish answering as Scrooge did it for him.

"He was down for the count, useless. Nothing more than scrapmetal! But ye didn't let that stop you then? Nae, your fiery spirit wouldn't let ya!"

"It wouldn't?" The youth asked, almost as if this was the first time he was hearing this tale and not the one who had lived it. Scrooge rolled his eyes, but otherwise smiled.

"No, laddie, it wouldn't. Next thing I knew, here this crazy, bumblin' fool was comin' t'me rescue, declaring he could actually beat the machine at its own game. Just from his- I mean- YOUR own talents. It was you who saved the day, and without the need of some silly tin can. You did it then, and I have more than enough faith you can do it now."

Fenton couldn't help but get choked up; he was just a sentimental kind of guy! It meant a lot to him that Scrooge thought that highly of him, had that much faith in his abilities.

What abilities were those, again? Ah, no matter.

"Well gee, Scroogey, I... I don't know what to say!"

"Then don't. Better to run your feet than your bill; we've got a lot of ground to cover."

Fenton straightened, and saluted at Scrooge's retreating back.

"You got it! Forward, march!"

Unfortunately, his overly enthusiastic march marched right into Scrooge. The old duck glared at Fenton and growled when they both tumbled to the ground. Fenton offered a sheepish grin and an apology.

"Aheh, we REALLY gotta stop meeting like this."

"Get off of me ya big galoot!"

The rest of the journey was relatively uneventful as the following hours the two walked on. The youngest had tried a few times to pass the time with what he thought was a riveting game of 'eye spy', but there was only so many times Scrooge was willing to answer 'tree, grass, and rock' before he was finished with the game all together. (Although, admittedly, Fenton was surprised he held out as long as he did!) After that was an attempt at conversing, though it was mostly onesided as Scrooge would only chime in with grunts and other affirmations that he was at least partially paying attention- as most of him was focused on reading the map.

"And so I said to M'Ma, " Fenton continued with his rambling, "'If you don't get rid of those bananas we're gonna get ourselves a trailer full of flies! Or worse!' But would she listen? _Nooooo_."

"And I suppose you ended up gettin' flies after all?" The old mallard asked, taking his eyes off the map momentarily as he noticed the lad was so into his story that he started walking ahead of him. Fenton scoffed as he started walking backwards, still conversing.

"No, worse! We ended up getting the attention of a gorilla that escaped from the zoo!" Fenton paused, stopping in his tracks as he scratched his chin in thought. "Admittedly, I really didn't see that one coming. But it certainly taught HER a lesson!"

But Scrooge wasn't looking at Fenton anymore, nor was he necessarily listening.

"Well it's about time!"

"I know!" Fenton replied. "It felt nice to be right for once, you know?"

Scrooge shook his head, and spun his companion around.

"Never mind that, look! We're here!"

Fenton gazed in awe at the town before him. (He supposed he had vaguely noticed it earlier, but he had been pretty caught up in his banana story.) This town seemed busier than the last, certainly more bustling, in any case.

"Wow-wee!" Fenton exclaimed. "I'll bet this place has a butcher, a baker, AND a candlestick maker!"

Scrooge McDuck waved them off, rolling up the map before stuffing it inside his jacket.

"Bah, I have no interest in that- I'm more hoping they have a blacksmith."

"A blacksmith," the other duck inquired, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "Whatever for?"

"Unless you plan on brawling the dragon with your fists, we're going t'need a couple of swords, lad." Scrooge said it so matter-of-factly that Fenton found himself nodding his head in agreement at this without thinking it over.

"Huh, gee, well that makes se- SWORDS?! As in… sharp and pointy, as in- jab jab right through a dragon's heart?"

"Only if we're lucky."

Fenton found his stomach doing a flip over the mere thought. He grabbed onto it to try and settle the feeling.

"I… _I don't think I can do that_ , the sight of blood makes me a little whoozy." A shiver went down his spine before straightening back up to his full height. "Not only that, but something's not sitting right about the dragon situation. Are you SURE we gotta hurt anybody? Can't we just, I dunno, scold him and give him a warning? Or something!"

"Oh, and next you'll be telling me you're against the death penalty, too." Scrooge replied sarcastically.

"WELL, _now that you mention it…_ " Fenton never go to finish his thought as the older mallard walked past him, straight into the town and quickly starting to get lost with the rest of the crowd. The duck gulped, before chasing after him. "H-hey, wait up- not so fast!"

Fenton tried his best to follow after Scrooge, but the old duck seemed to vanish in the sea of people. The accountant began to panic like a child who had just lost their mommy in the mall. He darted this way and that, bumping into people left and right, apologizing each time. Eventually, he managed to bump into something that didn't budge. Fenton, once he righted himself, looked up to see the rear end of a large horse.

The next thing he saw were stars, as the horse's back legs shot out and sent him flying. He collided with a brick wall, and fell into an open barrel. Scrooge's voice could be heard, far more cheerful than the younger mallard currently felt..

"Good work, Fenton! Looks like you found the armoury."

"Oh goody!" Fenton replied, dazed, as he did his best to climb out of the barrel, and Scrooge entered the building. Inside the room was hot- far warmer than the lingerings of summer out in the streets. The sound of clanking could be heard as, far off and near a side of the building, the very blacksmith they were looking for was busy hammering away on what looked to be a glowing orange blob. The burly man, hunched over near the long chimney and the heat source, stopped to inspect the piece before grunting and sticking it back into the stove. It was then the pigman noticed he wasn't alone-he gruffed out an acknowledgement, as he noticeably looked the lot over.

"Yeah, can I help you?"

"Aye, we come with business."

It was Scrooge who spoke up, as Fenton was still getting over his head trip. The old mallard, holding onto his cane as he stood up as tall as he could in order to show he was not deterred from the more hostile manner of the other man, stopped halfway into the room. He began speaking once more.

"We've come a long way, and we wish to commission."

"Commission what, exactly?" The pig answered, not in the mood to beat around the bush. In some ways Scrooge admired that, he too preferred to get to the point. He was just about to say what they were there for, when the youngest of the two finally found his bearings and began blabbering his bill.

"Swords, my good sir! And pronto, if you wouldn't mind- were kinda in a hurry here!"

Scrooge found himself facepalming as the blacksmith chuckled a deep and ominous laugh.

"In a hurry, huh? Working fast doesn't come cheap, you know."

Scrooge shot Fenton a dangerous look, but it was obvious by the look on the younger duck's face that he didn't know what for. No matter. Scrooge took a step forward and cleared his throat, ready to take the reigns on this conversation, but was cut off when Fenton quickly stepped ahead of him.

"Money is no object!" Fenton interjected. Scrooge face palmed again. The boar smirked at Fenton, except on his giant mug it looked more like a sneer. The much larger man bent down and looked Fenton over. Fenton flinched when he reached out toward him, closing a meaty fist around the medallion around his neck.

"Hmm! Nice little trinket you got here. I could see a trade."

" _Deal._ " Scrooge said, ready for the exchange to be over with. Nowhere were they told they couldn't trade it, and that was enough of a loophole for him. He was surprised, however, by the loud gasp as the youngest duck snatched the necklace back- cradling it protectively.

"Now hold your horses, we can't sell it! Princess Millicent gave it to us and said it was important!"

"And just what else ARE we supposed to trade," Scrooge asked with a growl, starting to get so frustrated that the mere thought of beating the lad until he grew unconscious was starting to look mildly pleasing. "We don't have any money, and we NEED those swords!"

It was the blacksmith's turn to yell.

"No money?!" He grabbed Fenton by the collar, bringing the much smaller man to his face as Fenton got the full intensity of his glare. "I THOUGHT you said money was no object!"

"It isn't! As in, uh, _it's not a thing we have_." Fenton was quick to continue, because he had a feeling if he didn't it might end with him being throttled by one or BOTH the other men in the room. "But look! We're on a special mission from the princess and we're willing to make a deal!"

"The princess, huh?" The burly man seemed to contemplate this, before setting Fenton back down onto the floor, unharmed. "Alright, I'm listening."

He had no real reason to believe they were working for the princess, but they did wear clothes that were too fancy to belong to a couple of homeless nuts, and that medallion did look like something from the castle. Or so he assumed, from the stories he had been told.

"Gladly!" Fenton chirped. "See, the princess told us all about those nasty ol' dragons that have been terrorizing the terrified townsfolk, and the frustrated farmers, to boot! So she called upon us, to defend your fair land from those dragons, so you guys can get along with your happily ever afters, and all that."

After listening to Fenton's tale, the blacksmith laughed so loudly, it shook the walls.

"And you two think you've got what it takes to take down the dragons? The very same dragons that laid ruin to my mother's entire village in one night? Tell me, what's so special about a couple of tiny travellers like you? Even with swords, you don't stand a chance."

Neither Scrooge nor Fenton could reply right away. The princess had never actually said how or why they stood a chance where others had fallen. It took Fenton a minute, as he clenched his fists to his side and he looked straight into the blacksmith's eyes, a look of undeterred determination present.

"Because we've got the heart, that's what what we got! See, ol' Scroogey," the duck pointed a thumb in said man's direction, " and I don't have much in common, he's can be bad tempered, argumentative, uncooperative, cantankerous-"

"Would you just get ON with it, Fenton!" The older mallard shouted, making Fenton smile all the more.

"See what I mean? But… what we _do_ got in common is the fact when the odds seem against us the most, we fight. Fight because it's right, because it's all we got left. There's no such thing as a mountain too high, or a valley too low- 'cause when we've got our eyes set on something we _go, go, go_!"

There was a strong wooden table about a foot or so away from the blacksmith, and even he found himself flinching away in surprise as Fenton hopped on top it.

"We come from a far off land of liberty, of a land where dreams can turn ya into the everyday super hero- _knights of justice_! There's somethin' afoot, and I won't stop until-"

" _Alright, already!_ " The pigman cried, picking Fenton off of his table by the collar and putting him back on the ground-where he fell with an 'oof' onto his bottom. "Sheesh, by this point I'd do almost anything just to get you to shut up!"

This caused Scrooge McDuck to do a double take as his glasses nearly fell from his bill.

"You mean… you'll really do it? _Just like that_?"

"Yeah, sure, why not?" The blacksmith huffed, scratching the back of his thick neck. "'Sides, I got a beef with those dragons- seeing as they're the reason I gotta deal with my mother-in-law. You just make sure you kill the thing that gave me my neverending headache, alright?"

Scrooge couldn't believe it! Fenton had actually managed to convince the big brute to do business with them. He felt a warm fondness rising up in his chest, and although it could have easily been heartburn, there was no denying that Scrooge felt proud of Fenton. There might be a businessman in there somewhere yet.

The blacksmith grunted, and turned back to his metal working project.

"There's just one problem." He said without bothering to turn back around.

"Oh? And what problem would that be?" asked Scrooge, suspiciously. He figured there would be a catch.

"Metal's in short supply around here, ever since the dragons made a home out of the mines. No metal, no swords."

It was then that Fenton uttered words than made his paramour's blood run cold.

"Saaaay… coins are made out of metal!"

"Bless me kilts!" Scrooge took a step back, hand quickly clutching his chest in alarm. "You… You can't… No! Nae, _not on your LIFE!_ "

"Aww, but c'mon Scroogey," the middle aged duck tried to reason, taking a step closer- in which McDuck took a step back in retreat. "Our lives DO depend on it! And they're worthless, you said so yourself!"

"Worthless HERE! Me money's still has value back home where it TRULY matters!" Fenton took yet another step closer, in which Scrooge put up his cane in defense. He began waving it threateningly in a panic, causing Fenton to 'eep' as it nearly hit him.

"But without the swords we can't even GET home! C'mon, Scroogey-"

"Don't you ' _Scroogey_ ', me! I said No! I can't! I won't!" The old man stomped his feet in a tantrum. "No, no, no, _NO, NO, NO_!"

* * *

" _This is the saddest day of my life_ ," Scrooge blubbered, as he wept into the handkerchief handed to him as both he and the younger lad walked out of town- now two swords richer and a whole coin purse poorer. The blacksmith had been hard at work for hours, all the while McDuck had hollered in agony with every blow of the hammer on metal. Fenton, his dagger fastened to his side by the belt the pig man had given them in exchange for the wheat, did his best to comfort his love as he wrapped an arm around him.

"Aww, it's okay- really! Remember what we said before? It's all so you can go back and see the rest of your fortune!"

Scrooge blew his nose again, nodding his head even as he looked miserable.

"A noble sacrifice so I can once again swim in me money bin. Just… dimes, nickels, quarters, pennies… So much money- a tragedy!"

"Just think of it this way- your assets are now being an asset!"

If looks could kill, Fenton would have dropped dead on the very spot just from the sheer annoyed look on McDuck's face. The younger duck gulped, removing his arm as he smiled sheepishly. WELL, at least it got his love to stop crying!

Up ahead, Fenton spotted a familiar face, not to mention a much appreciated topic change.

"Hey, look!" He cried out, pointing to the man in the distance. "It's the nice man from before!"

Scrooge adjusted his glasses and squinted. Yup, there was that guy they had met when they had first arrived in this time, the guy he barely even remembered.

"Aye, so it is." He replied, with the same enthusiasm one might express while commenting on the weather.

"Hey! Hey mister!" Fenton not only waved to the guy, but dashed on ahead as if he was a friend they hadn't seen in years. "Remember us?"

The old man, who had been leaning on an old worn sign at a fork in the road, looked up from under his large brimmed hat at being called. A smile was quick to form on his bill as he replied.

"Ah, yes, the strange travellers. Did you find the answers you seeked?"

"Boy, did we," Fenton slumped with a sigh, "did ya know that this place is apparently riddled with _dragons_? How do any of you people SLEEP around here?!"

"Mmm, as well as any other man plagued with troubles, I suppose." The wanderer stroked his old beard thoughtfully, watching as Scrooge finally caught up with them- his attention was on the map, however, as he grumbled to himself. This caused the ragged old duck to raise a thick brow. "Something ails you, friend?"

The sound of the other man's voice was enough to get Scrooge to tear his gaze as he angrily pointed at the scroll in his hand.

"Poor craftsmanship is what this is- everything twists and turns, and hardly anything is marked! It's useless!"

"Aww, nothing is REALLY useless!" Fenton defended the map as he looked at it, just as confused. " _Although_ … this thing can make a guy wonder."

Scrooge took it as an agreement, as he stomped his foot down in frustration.

"Precisely! Useless! And we don't have TIME t'get lost and backtrack!"

"Perhaps time is all you have." The wanderer hummed in philosophical thought, changing the subject before either of the other two mallards could question his meaning. " You mentioned dragons, and perhaps I have some news of interest." Standing straight up, the old man pointed to his right where the fork in the road split. "About a day's journey that way has been word of beasts with jaws that bite, claws that catch, and breath so vile it burns everything to a crisp. I don't know the name, however, I'm sure the folk there would gladly lend a hand to help those that lend a hand."

Fenton turned to Scrooge, a look of optimistic curiosity on his face.

"Well, sounds good, right? We've got nothin' to lose!"

Scrooge growled at he glared at the map, trying his best once again to read the darn thing. It was no use. Scrooge thought himself pretty skilled when it came to reading maps of all kind, but this one looked as if it had been drawn by someone with more than a few screws loose. He couldn't make heads nor tails of it.

"Oh alright. Fine. We'll go. But it's gettin' late." Scrooge pointed at the darkening sky. "We'll need to make camp soon. We'll visit in the morning."

"A camping trip, oh boy!" Fenton leapt into the air. His childlike enthusiasm made the old mallard smile, despite himself.

"Alright, come along, we'll need to find a place to set up camp before it gets much darker."

Fenton, eyes focused on Scrooge as he began to walk down the right path, started after him like an excited puppy. It was a few feet down the road he suddenly remembered the old wanderer as he turned around with a jolt- noticing he was gone.

" _Blathering blatherskite_! How does he even DO that?!"

"Fenton!" Scrooge called, the younger mallard looking over to see him tapping his foot in annoyance, arms crossed. Giving one last confused glance at the old sign post, Fenton followed after his love- still, he couldn't help but feel it wouldn't be the last time they would run into that strange old man again.

* * *

Finding rocks and wood were the first mission, as along the way Scrooge instructed his significant other to pick up any he found. "DRY wood," he made sure to stress, "damp twigs don't good fires make." It wasn't long until their arms were full and the old mallard, gauging that they only had an hour of sunlight at the most, left the trail far enough so that the path was still in site- but well enough hidden just in case bandits came along. It reminded him of his adventures across the Serengeti, and how he had once been trusting to the point he let a young Glomgold bamboozle him out of everything he had. It was with a frown that he, behind a group of large rocks, he dropped his load in his hands as he began instructing once more.

"Alright, laddie, drop what you're carryin' and get t' finding us more wood. I get t'the fire meanwhile, and then we can eat."

Fenton straightened up as tall as he could as he saluted.

"Aye aye, captain!"

Scrooge was true to his word, as by the time Fenton returned with an armful of wood, the fire was alive and well. While not exactly roaring, it was certainly large enough for the two of them, the rocks arranged in a loose circle at its base.

"Sure is chilly tonight, huh?" Fenton dropped the wood next to the rest of it,and nodded at the pile, approvingly. That should be enough to get them through the night!

"Aye, it's a bit nippy." Scrooge agreed, already huddled by the fire. "Come sit by the fire, why don't you? It's a bit warmer over here."

" _You don't say_!" Fenton replied. As was often the case, Scrooge had a suspicion that what sounded like sarcasm was genuine surprise and wonderment. His companion plopped his keister beside him, and scooted closer- unnecessarily close, but Scrooge didn't say it- and smiled.

"Hey, so it is!"

The much older duck rolled his eyes, but otherwise went to work of unraveling the white cloth filled with food from the farm family. Taking out an apple, Scrooge pulled out his new sword and began using it to peel it before handing it to his companion.

"Here you go, laddie. Make it last. Besides splitting a loaf, we're going t'have to keep until we can get to the next village."

Fenton had happily accepted the offerings, instantly munching it with an audible crunch as Scrooge went to peeling his own. It was in between bites that the accountant spoke up again.

"Mmm, so, what IS the plan tomorrow? Walk up to a bunch of farmers and go 'hey, seen any dragons'? And 'also anybody got any spare grub'?"

Scrooge waved off the notion.

"BAH! Scrooge McDuck begs no man!" He paused. "Buuut, a free handout, on the other hand…"

Fenton laughed.

"Ha! I hear ya, Scroogey. Maybe we can try the whole bartering thing again. Help the folks, get some help back. Worked great earlier, after all!"

Scrooge scoffed, and thrust his dagger into the ground beside him.

"It wasn't exactly a bargain. Emptied out my whole change purse!" The look of sorrow and regret on Fenton's face was more than enough to convince him to change his tune. "Ah, but no use worrying about that now. You did good, Laddie."

Fenton smiled from both the words, and the reassuring pat on the back that came with it.

"You mean that?" he asked, hopefully. Scrooge nodded.

"Sure. He never would have agreed if it hadn't been for your, eh..." if it hadn't been for his motor mouth. " _your quick thinking and bartering skills_."

Apparently the accountant bought it, because he was all smiles again. Phew. A comfortable silence settled over them then, the crackle of the fire the only sound in their world. And when Fenton broke it, Scrooge vaguely mused to himself how strange it was that he didn't mind.

"You know, this is kind of nice, despite the whole, 'in constant danger of being eaten by dragons', deal. I haven't been camping since my Pa was around, which was, gosh..." he counted silently but quickly. "A whole childhood ago!"

This topic fueled Scrooge's curiosity. While Fenton was one to talk endlessly of his mother, Scrooge had only gotten tidbits of information about his father. The older mallard pressed on, taking the bait.

"Oh? You were just a wee one when he passed on, then?"

Fenton nodded his head sorrowfully.

"Yeah, it was hard growing up without him. Always kinda thought it was my own fault, you know? Just one of those kiddie guilt trips that sometimes happen when you lose somebody. Though I guess we shoulda saw it coming, he always did prefer passing on from place to place."

"I… _excuse me_?" Before the younger mallard could say anything about him being excused, Scrooge quickly elaborated. "Place to place? Are you telling me he… he LEFT you and your mother?"

"Well, yeah… Why? What did ya think happened to him?" Fenton asked innocently. The billionaire glared.

"What d'ya think? You made it sound like he died! Here I was pitying the man- and ya go 'n tell me he was nothin' but an unloyal vagrant! Distasteful! Leaving a woman and child!"

The middle aged duck put up his hands in defense.

"Woah woah, yikes! No need to blow a gasket! Yeah, sure, I'm still pretty angry at him too… But I think ma and I did pretty well on our own. I mean, look at how well I turned out!"

Scrooge didn't have the heart to tell him that was what concerned him.

"Aye… I suppose you have a point. Wouldn't want any of his bad habits rubbing off on ye', and from what little I've heard, he sounds like a man not worth the investment."

"Awww, he couldn't have been all bad! M'ma must've seen something in him! ... Right?"

This time, Scrooge didn't bother sparing Fenton's feelings. He just looked at him with a frown and an annoyed stare. Finally, Fenton's wavering smile fell, and he sighed.

"Yeah, maybe not."

"Never mind all that, not tonight. The important thing is, you've obviously grown into a better man than he ever was. Now let's get some shuteye, we've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

Fenton watched as Scrooge set his glasses aside, lied down, and curled up into a ball, his back facing him. Fenton was tired, but he wasn't very sleepy. He gazed up at the stars, twinkling brightly in the night sky.

"The stars sure are pretty tonight." He noted. Scrooge grunted. "Hey, you think my Pa's watching from up there somewhere?"

This made Scrooge turn over to gape at Fenton.

"What? I thought you said he wasn't dead!"

"Oh! He isn't! I just always kind of hoped he left to become an astronaut."

Scrooge groaned, and flopped back over.

"Go to sleep, Fenton. ... Besides, in this day and age, your father hasn't even been born yet."

A look of dawning realization and awe came over Fenton's face.

"Huh! Y'know, you're right!"

And with that said, silence hung between the two as the younger duck stared at the sky- the only noises heard was the snapping sounds of the fire and the occasional cricket. It didn't take long for Fenton to break that, however, as a strong wind sending a chill from the north blew past- causing him to audibly shiver. He called out to the other man faced away from him.

"Sc-Sc-Scrooge, I… I'm cold."

Scrooge, without moving from his spot, grumbled in annoyance.

"Just a little breeze, buck up n' bear it."

As if on cue another gust of wind blew, causing the fire to flicker and dance dangerously as Fenton held onto himself tighter as if he attempted to hug the cold out of his body. The lad whimpered when it didn't work, however, and was just about to whine again when the older mallard huffed and rolled over, His eyes were an unfocused glare as he looked away, but his arms were welcoming as they were stretched out towards the other man. Fenton was confused until Scrooge bluntly explain.

"C'mon, lad. I'm not goin' t'get any sleep with you whimpering all night anyhow."

Fenton gawked.

"You… You mean…?"

"Don't make me say it again, Fenton."

Fenton didn't need to be told twice as he scurried the remaining gap over, practically falling onto his face. It took some adjustments- seeing the height difference and all. However, a position was finally decided upon as Scrooge had his arms wrapped around the taller duck in a warm embrace. Fenton found himself pleasantly surprised by just how much heat radiated off of him, but shrugged it off to having to do with his fiery spirit and temper.

"Mmm, anybody ever tell ya you make a good furnace?" Scrooge didn't get to reply before Fenton yawned, his mind relaxing enough to be just as tired as the rest of him. His eyes grew heavy, his voice thick as he he found himself drifting off to sleep."G'night Scroogey." The account mumbled, hardly loud enough to be heard.

But Scrooge scoffed, closing his own eyes as he leaned his head against Fenton's back.

"Goodnight, lad."


	5. The Battle for Village Valley

By all logic Scrooge McDuck should have woken up in a foul mood. He had hardly eaten the day before, his body was sore from all the walking that he had been doing, and the night was spent on the cold hard ground. But as the sun hit his face, the old mallard felt far more cheerful than usual as he lazily opened his eyes. He sighed contently, and found himself against his better judgment wanting to snuggle the warm fluffy pillow in his arms as he rested his cheek against it once more. It was when said pillow began to move slightly, that the wheels in his head began to turn- reminding him where he was and who he was with.

It was then that he also remembered that they had a mission, and that there was a cave's worth of gold waiting for him somewhere over the horizon. Scrooge would never admit it, but he was slightly saddened when he had to retrieve his arms from around the young lad and start getting up.

"Alright, Fenton," he called, shaking the bundle next to him, "time t'wake. We got a long walk ahead of us."

"More walking?" His reply resembled that of a whining child more than a grown adult. He rolled over and tucked his head into his own arms in defiance against the rising sun.

"Can't I just have five more minutes?" He yawned and rolled over again. "Ten at most. _Thirty, my final offer._ "

Fenton's voice had begun to take on the slur of slumber at the end, and was soon followed by light snoring.

"Sure, go right ahead." Scrooge replied, purposely loud, as he got to work smothering the remaining smouldering ashes of their fire. "Just don't expect me to be here when you wake up. Adventure- and treasure- waits for no man."

That was all it took. Fenton sat bolt upright and gaped at Scrooge in disbelief.

"You'd really leave me here, for the d-dragons to find?!"

The sly smirk he received in reply told him that no, no he wouldn't have, but it had done the trick, and he was awake.

"That was a rotten trick, you know." Fenton whined, as they gathered up their belongings, and set off down the road.

"Aye, Perhaps, but it got your keister up and moving, didn't it?"

* * *

This particular road, they were quick to note, lacked the fairytale-esque air the others had carried. Here, trees crowded on either side of the path, their bare, reaching limbs creating an unsettling canopy overhead that blocked out a good deal of the sun. And the smell... the smell was the worst part.

"Eugh! What IS that smell?" Fenton finally questioned.

"That would be swamp gas, laddie. We've entered swampland territory."

Fenton pulled up his jacket and collar in attempt to filter his breathing air. With a muffled voice, he went on.

"You know, I always thought nature was supposed to be beautiful and breathtaking…" He paused, as a thought occurred to him. "HUH, it IS hard to breathe right now… Okay, point to you, nature- but I was still promised beauty!"

The older mallard rolled his eyes over his partner's dramatics- if the lad thought this was bad, he would like to see him fare around any place with an abundance of animals. He casually began thinking about the South African coast, and Seal Island in particular, where one gust of wind had been known to knock a tourist out from its repugnant smell. Scrooge managed a small smile as he imagined Fenton's complaints he would have if he ever took him there.

This did not go unnoticed by Fenton.

"Saaay, what's got YOU in a good mood? I thought *I* was supposed to be the chipper optimist over here!"

"Bah, you're too busy complaining t'be be anywhere close to chipper- besides, I was merely thinking we should be heading back t'civilization soon enough." Scrooge pulled out the map from inside his coat once more as he squinted at it. "That is, if the directions we received were right."

"Really?" Fenton gave their surroundings a good look-over."Civilization in a swamp?"

Scrooge gave him a look that told him he was still complaining. Yikes! When had he become such a negative Nancy? Was he turning into his mother already?

"Uh! How creative! Yeah, I like it!" He slapped his forehead. "The mosquitoes were a nice touch!"

"Leave the wildlife be, Fenton." Scrooge teased. "I don't think they'd- _hold on, what's that?_ "

Fenton glanced around, and shrugged. He didn't see anything new or out of the ordinary.

"What's what? What am I looking at?"

" _Shh! Listen!_ "

And he did. Fenton strained his ears and he suddenly realized that what he had assumed was the buzzing of hungry insects, was actually the sound of terrified screaming in the distance. While a part of his brain told the middle age mallard that they should turn away from the screams and look for help, another part of him disagreed. The part of him, the side he had named and connected with his Gizmoduck persona, demanded they follow it- people were in danger, after all, and what kind of hero would he be if he ran away like a big ol' coward?

Even if running into battle was the best way to get burned to a crisp by a rampaging dragon.

Fenton grabbed onto McDuck's hand as he charged forward, Scrooge just barely able to keep up with him.

"Fenton!"

"No time to dilly nor dally, Scroogey!" Fenton cried in between his gasps for air. "People need us!"

They dashed left, right, ducking under a branch as they went deeper and deeper into the swamplands- the sounds getting all the louder. A mighty roar filled the air, and was soon followed by another, and the younger of the two found his heart jump in his chest. This was madness! They were just two measly ducks, the blacksmith was right… what chance did they stand against not one, but most likely MULTIPLE beasts?!

And yet they charged on, Fenton by his sense of duty and Scrooge with the lust of adventure shining in his eyes.

In no time at all the two found light from the shadows as they ran straight out of the closed off forest and into a valley- where the land was lit ablaze. Not to mention most of the buildings nestled there. Shops, homes, trees, it seemed nothing had been spared. The people of the small town- or was it more of a village- still fled in panic from the beasts laying ruin to their homes.

Just when they began to wonder where, exactly, said beasts were, the sun went out.

"Huh! What a time for a solar eclipse!" Fenton said, squinting up at the sky.

"That's no eclipse, lad..." The hint of fear in Scrooge's voice nearly paralyzed Fenton. As his eyes adjusted, he realized he was right. A massive monster was descending from the sky, wings so massive they blotted out the sun like an all encompassing black tarp. It had no front legs or arms, but its back legs looked powerful, the talons sharp and deadly. Its eyes shone a bright, menacing red above a mouth full of what appeared to be jagged and offset rows of daggers.

It landed on the ground, and soon another creature followed. Fenton felt all the blood drain from his face as he shook, his hand quivering as he pointed at the thing locking eyes with him.

"D… D… DRAGONS!" The middle aged duck cried out in alarm.

Meanwhile, Scrooge glared.

"Nae, not dragons, _wyverns_."

" _Is there a difference?!_ " Fenton screeched .

There was very much a difference, as far as McDuck was concerned. They were told to hunt down a dragon, not its wannabee cousins. It meant he had wasted his time going down the path he did, only to follow the wrong lead. It meant he and Fenton had charged into battle over the wrong bloody beast!

He would have to remember later to go after the old wandering bum after everything was said and done. For now, however…

"Duck!" Fenton cried, his words jarring Scrooge from his anger ridden fog. The old mallard dodged just in time, pushing both he and the lad out of the way before getting burned into a crisp. He rolled, landing on his knees and pulling out his weapon as Fenton landing next to him in an ' _oof_ '.

"Alright Fenton," Scrooge began quickly, "here's the plan: I'm goin' t' take on this angry scaly handbag, while you distract the other. Think ya can handle that, lad?"

"Dis… tract? OH! Oh sure!" Crackshell piped in, doing his best to scramble back onto his feet. "I'll have you know 'distraction' is my middle name!"

"Just GO already!" The billionaire screamed. It was the broad side of Scrooge's sword whacking the beast's head away as it darted forward to snap at him, that got Fenton moving at last. Both of the dragons... wayvarns? Were going after Scrooge, so he had to resort to kicking one of them in the shin to get its attention.

It worked better and quicker than the accountant had been anticipating, and he gulped when the hideous monster whipped around and roared in his face, the heat and stench of its breath making the swamp smell like a field of roses. Fenton turned on his heel and he ran, he ran like his life- oh. _His life did depend on it._

"Don't run toward the village, you idiot!" Scrooge yelled after him, swiping at the monster he was engaged in battle with, missing but driving it back some.

Fenton skidded to a halt, the wyvern chasing him thankfully caught off guard, running over the duck and doubling back as its prey dashed back toward the swamp, instead. Fenton ran and he ran, his heart pounding in his chest. He gasped for breaths, a part of himself cursing for not keeping in better shape. Fenton was nearing the woods when the wyvern behind him roared, pumping its winged arms as it leapt into the air- landing and blocking the duck's path as he came to a halt. Fenton gulped nervously, pulling out his sword with a shaking hand.

"S-stand back! I don't want to hurt you, but I will if I gotta!"

He REALLY hoped the dragon-creature was a bad poker player and wouldn't meet his bluff. Unfortunately, the beast didn't even hesitate as it used a wing to slap the sword out of Fenton's hand- causing the accountant to cry out in pain.

"YEOWCH! I was using that hand, you know!" Fenton, this time prepared, ducked as another swipe came at him. "Okay, NOW you're just being rude!"

The third swipe did the trick as the next thing the middle aged mallard knew, he was flying back from a wicked backhand- tacking air before landing and skidding into the ground- now a good safe distance away from the beast.

"I….heh, WANTED you to do that!" Fenton laughed in hysteria, as he watched the pretty stars around his head dance away. Soon stars turned into not-dragons, who were menacingly making their way towards him. It took a second or two, but with a shake of his head the double trouble merged into one. One word screamed in his head loud and clear: _run_.

Meanwhile, Scrooge was trying to juggle battling the best, and keeping an eye out for Fenton. The old mallard knew that his accountant was more of a counter than a fighter, but what Fenton was doing now was so far from fighting it was almost sad. He would have thought that the lad had a little bite in him, at the very least, considering he was the fearless Gizmoduck, but the scene he was glimpsing from the corner of his vision resembled a giant, clumsy chicken chasing and pecking at a frightened, fleeing mouse in the dooryard.

Under better circumstances, it may have been comical.

No matter. Fenton would just have to fend for himself, and in the end, Scrooge trusted the man to do just that. It was his own tail feathers he needed to focus on saving at the moment.

The thing lunged again, and Scrooge dove under, tucking and rolling when he hit the ground. Still on his knees, Scrooge lifted his sword high above his head, hands gripping the handle tightly.

"This is for the townspeople! Their lives and homes and businesses you've destroyed!"

The sword came down, slicing through the monster's foot. The wyvern screamed, in agony and in anger, as it tugged on its injured foot. recoiling and shaking it, the sword, and Scrooge, shaking with it.

The winged beast managed to shake the sword, and the mallard attached to it, free. Blood flew in droplets as Scrooge was flung high into the air, gripping the sword for all he was worth (which, being the richest duck in the world, was quite a lot!).

As the wyvern was busy licking its injury with a long, slimy tongue, Scrooge landed with a dull thud on its back. The mallard wasted no time in taking advantage of this stroke of luck.

"This is for wasting our valuable time." He mumbled, before driving the sword through its back, right between its grotesque shoulder blades. When it screamed again, and whipped its head around to snap at the pest on its back, Scrooge was ready for it.

"And this! Is for me poor, empty coin purse!" He cried, plunging the sword with all his might into the beast's glowering right eye.

The wyvern's howl of pain was enough to give the beast's relation a moment of pause as it stopped its descent on Fenton and jerked its head towards the direction of the sound. Crackshell, who was just feet away, used this distraction to scramble back onto his feet as he ran between the monster's taloned legs. Feeling the feathery tufts of the middle aged duck's hair against its underside was all it took to jerk the wyvern's attention back on its prey, as it attempted to snatch the runaway meal between its teeth.

Fenton yipped as it tore a chunk out of his coat- just barely missing his backside. He didn't have time to be upset about it, however, as his mind was focused on the glint on the ground ahead of him. There! Just yards away was the sword he had lost earlier. He wouldn't slay the beast, he just couldn't! But…

" _Blathering Blatherskite!_ I think I got it!"

Snatching up the sword as he ran by, it didn't take long before Fenton reentered the woods and then began slashing wildly at the branches and bushes ahead of him.

"Take THIS, and THIS!" He cried, looking back over his shoulder and grinning in victory as it smacked the wyvern in the face. The grin didn't last long as everything he swung at the monster just bounced off as if it didn't phase it at all. Smoke trailed out of its nostrils and even the oblivious accountant was quick to realize what was coming next.

"STOP, DROP, AND ROLL FOR YOUR LIVES!"

Taking his own advice was the best decision, as he just nearly avoided getting hit by the flames. The trees and other various foliage weren't as lucky; they caught fast and burned quickly from the onslaught.

Fenton made a mental note to take care of that later. If he survived, that was. He scrambled to his feet just as the wyvern pelted after him again, eyes flashing, maw smoking.

"This is ridiculous!" Fenton cried. "I can't keep running forever!"

And what he spoke was true. His heart sank as he spotted the way the trees up ahead flanked the path tightly, the path itself ending abruptly at a natural stone wall. He swore he heard the thing behind him chuckle. Of course, _what a fool he had been._ This not-dragon knew these swamps like the back of its big ol' gross bat wing. It had chased him there to this dead end _on purpose_.

He spun around to face his doom, terrified but still doing his best to formulate an escape plan, even as the thing bore down on him. At least it had slowed; it almost seemed to sneer at him as it slowly advanced, taking its time to fully enjoy its impending victory.

"Hey, hey now! Let's be reasonable here!" Fenton tried to persuade the beast to whatever higher logic it might have possessed. "Didn't your mother ever teach you to make friends, not meals?" The wyvern continued at it's painfully slow pace. The accountant gulped, dropping to his knees as he began to beg. "PLEASE DON'T EAT ME! I'm not even worthy of an afternoon snack! I swear this is more fat than meat, honest!"

It was right when the creature was upon him, breath hot and thick on Fenton's face, that both beast and bird were in for a surprise. The wyvern, while mid licking its chops, suddenly let out a high pitch screech as it stumbled back. Fenton jerked his head up in astonishment, eyes landing on the most welcoming site he had ever seen. There, standing yards away, looking worn and out of breath, was Scrooge- his eyes blazing like hell itself powered him.

Fenton was so caught up in gazing at his knight in a shining top hat, that he missed the dragon staggering and flailing, trying in vain to reach the sword jutting out of its back. It demanded his attention, however, when it took one misstep, and the wet, slimy, squelching sound as it toppled over into the marsh filling the swamp.

"I guess not-dragons must be lousy swimmers! What luck!" Fenton cheered, jumping to his feet to get a better look at the monster that had, moments before, been sizing him up for an afternoon snack. It flailed and screamed in panic, and Fenton almost felt bad for it. Okay, he did feel bad for it.

"Maybe. But no one can swim in that, laddie. It's quicksand!"

The short, joyous chuckle the older duck ended that sentence with made Fenton question Scrooge's sanity, just a little, and not for the first time. Best to ignore that, though.

"Yeah, but what about your sword?" Fenton asked, instead, pointing to the lost weapon, still stuck in the drowning beast. Scrooge swiped the sword from Fenton's hand- the very one he had completely forgotten about until then.

"I'll just take this one, I suppose."

' _Since you obviously have no intentions of using it._ ' His look said. Fenton, however, wasn't at all offended as the next thing he did was throw himself onto his paramour. Scrooge nearly stumbled as the accountant showered him in kisses- showing his endless gratitude.

" _Mmm_ , take it! Keep it!" Three kisses were quickly pecked all over the older man's face. "I'm just so happy to see you! I thought I was a goner, for sure!"

McDuck rolled his eyes, but the smile on his bill never left as he patted the lad affectionately on the back.

"Alright, alright. Enough with this now. You wouldn't t've had to worry if you actually fought back a little." He sighed wearily, pushing the younger duck off of him gently as he gave him a stern look. "Honestly, Fenton, _what am I goin' t'do with ya_?"

"Aww, but Scroogey, I DID fight back," Fenton insisted. "I just…"

" _Did it poorly_."

Fenton deflated in the slightest at Scrooge's words, but was quick to bounce back as a different thought struck him.

"Say, what about the people from the village? Are they okay?"

"Aye, it appears so. Apparently they created a community safe cellar of sorts for such occasions." He turned, already beginning to walk out of the woods, not having to say it but fully knowing Fenton would follow. "They were starting to douse the fires when I ran in after you."

Fenton let out a big sigh of relief. He felt like fainting. Or screaming. Or maybe a little of both. But the danger was behind them- for now- and he hoped that meant they could relax a little.

"Good! Glad to hear it! Aw, helping folks out like that really warms my heart..."

The contented, dreamy smile on the accountant's face twitched, and then fell completely, his eyes opening wide.

"Yikes! It's REALLY warm! Hot, even! _YE-OWCH_!"

Fenton began to dance around, pawing at his chest, and had Scrooge not seen the faint glow through the front of the guy's shirt, he may have assumed he had been bitten by something unpleasant.

"Calm down, would ya? Hold still!" he scolded, grabbing Fenton by the shoulders to steady him. The accountant gasped when Scrooge's hand was shoved down the front on his shirt, then felt silly when the older mallard pulled out the medallion, which was glowing, the light pulsating like a sick heart.

' _Yuck... why was that my first thought_?' Fenton mused to himself in disgust. ' _It's more like the ringing of a telephone, really_!'

Scrooge meanwhile, holding the hot medallion firmly in his hand, raised a brow as he took a gamble.

"Hello," the old mallard asked, feeling foolish for talking to a piece of jewelry. His pride didn't take any damage, however, as suddenly in a flash of light Princess Millicent's face appeared in the middle of the green gem.

"Travellers? Brave knights, are you alright?"

Fenton, peeking at the upside down image, gasped in amazement.

"Whaddya know! Who'da thunk that necklaces were medieval cell phones!"

While McDuck rolled his eyes, the woman's expression of worry quickly vanished as relief washed over her, as she seemed to finally pick up their end of the transmission. "Ah, there you are! I was concerned for your safety when I heard you had headed towards an attacked village. Is all well?"

"Hold on," Scrooge began with scrutiny, scrunching up his face as he gave her image a sideways glare. "How did ye know where we were?"

If the princess was offended, she didn't show it as she responded.

"Oh! I've been having people keep track of you. For safety reasons, I assure you."

"For whom's safety?" The old duck couldn't help but wonder, still a bit miffed over having an unnecessary battle with beasts that weren't the one they were searching for. Fenton, meanwhile, had his own concerns to voice.

"I'm more wondering why your spies didn't help us out back there! We were almost killed by not-dragons, ya know!"

"Not… dragons?" Princess Millicent asked genuinely confused.

"The lad means wyverns," Scrooge explained. "They nearly destroyed the village, and I'm havin' a sneaky suspicion they may have caused the damage to the people's property we met along the way. Nowhere were we told t'slay them as well!"

The medallion grew silent for a minute, and Scrooge began to wonder if their call had been dropped. Bah, cell phones were just as useless now as they were in his own time. And then:

"Slay? ... They're dead?" The hint of remorse in her voice raised a brow.

"...Aye?"

"Both of them?"

"Yes both of them, we had no choice, what do you- _wait a minute_."

But it was Fenton who uttered his suspicion first.

"Yeah, hey, how'd you know there were two of 'em, anyhow?"

"Don't be a fool." The sharpness in her tone shut Fenton up in a hurry, and caused Scrooge's scowl to deepen. "My helpers told me, of course. Like I said, they've been keeping watch for me. Never mind. I suggest you two stop fooling around in the swamp, and find that dragon, before the entire kingdom falls to its wrath. If you think you can manage that."

The medallion went silent again, but this time the glow vanished, too. Communication had been severed, for the time being. Scrooge let go of the magical item altogether, letting it naturally fall back against the younger duck's chest as he eyed it, in thought. Fenton, too, found himself staring in silence before finally being the one to voice what they both were thinking.

" _What now?"_


	6. Do It For Him

The decision on what to do next came to the weary travelers in the form of a thankful village. The moment Fenton and Scrooge stepped out of the woods, they were met by the people clapping and cheering- the men slapping them hard on the backs and shaking hands as the women bowed- the more adventurous kissing their heroes on their feathered cheeks. While the older mallard brushed it off, Fenton couldn't help but blush bashfully at the attention- never as Gizmoduck had he been treated in such a way. It was… kinda nice.

However, as the people kept on praising and thanking them, the more the happy highs began to dissipate until the accountant was feeling at an alltime low. The more he thought about it, the more guilt washed over him as he realized he hadn't really done anything to save these people. Scrooge, his paramour, his own personal knight, was the true hero. He had been the one to bravely go up against the wyverns not once, but twice! The billionaire had actually defeated creatures thrice his size, and hadn't even broken a sweat or shown a single nerve. And what had Fenton done?

He had ran back and forth until he was cornered like some mouse caught by a farmer's cat. Outsmarted, outmaneuvered, out… well, just about everything! He had stood there, begging for the beast to spare his life, not even able to defend himself. It put the Gizmoduck part of him to shame.

The younger mallard was never good at hiding his feelings, and it was during the feast the villagers had put on for them that Scrooge- having just finished making a deal with the local blacksmith for a new sword, free of charge- noticed that his partner's spirits were low.

"Alright, Fenton," McDuck said just loud enough to pierce through the blanket of music and happy chattering, as he placed a hand gently on the lad's shoulder. "Spit it out, what's eating ya?"

It took Fenton a moment to realize that Scrooge wasn't speaking literally, and swallowed his mouthful of food instead of spitting it out.

"Oh, it's nothing important, I guess." But the childish tone in which he spoke it, along with the way his foot shuffled under the table, told Scrooge that Fenton didn't really believe that. So he waited, patiently, for the rest he knew was coming.

"It's just..." _there it was,_ "for a hero, I haven't exactly done a lot of heroing! All I've done is a whole lot of running and complaining. I'm sorry, Scroogey... I guess I really _am_ useless without _you-know-who_ around."

Well, he wasn't wrong about most of what he had said.

"Would ya stop crying into your peas, lad? You're not useless." That part, at least, Scrooge believed.

"No, you're wrong, I _am_ useless. But... but maybe I don't have to be!"

This caught the older duck's attention as he raised a brow.

" _Oh?_ "

"Yeah!" Fenton lifted himself up from his slumped position at the table, moving so his full body was completely turned towards the other man. He went on, his eyes full of worry but his smile beaming with hope. "I might not know how to use a sword, but you do! You could help _me_ help _you_ and everybody else by at least teaching me how to use it!"

"Swords are weapons, you know." Scrooge began slowly, thinking over his partner's words. "They're meant to hurt others before they get the chance t'hurt ye first. You wouldn't even be able to hurt a fly, let alone anything more threatening."

Fenton shook his head so hard Scrooge momentarily thought it might fly off his shoulders. The younger mallard protested.

"That's where you're wrong! Well, okay, not so much on the whole… stabbing things department. But what I mean is, why can't a sword be used to defend?"

"Defend?"

"Yeah! I mean, don't people block things all the time with swords? All the cool fights in movies have these big battles where their weapons clash, sparks fly as the brave hero blocks the villain's attacks. Where they duck to the left and dodge to the right- just long enough until fate steps in and takes the baddies out!"

Scrooge glared.

"You can't depend on luck to save you, Fenton."

"No," the middle aged duck admitted softly, momentarily looking away before meeting his paramour's eyes once more. "But I can depend on you. And I know if you teach me what I need to know, I won't have to worry at all!"

Scrooge's hard look didn't survive for much longer under the pleading gaze of his accountant.

"I swear, Fenton, you could convince the devil t'set himself on fire." He admitted, not unkindly. "Alright, I'll do it. Better eat your fill, because after dinner, the training starts."

Scrooge leaned in slightly, setting the moths a-flutter in Fenton's tummy.

"If you can manage t'fend off Scrooge McDuck, no dragon nor wyvern will stand a chance!"

And with that, Scrooge was gone, sauntering away, still chuckling. Fenton swallowed the lump in his throat and wondered if he had just made a big mistake.

* * *

Meanwhile, the older mallard spent his time talking business with the locals. It didn't take much convincing before Scrooge could acquire some land and stacks of hay to practice on. A Mister Bennett had been more than ready to help the strange hero with whatever he needed, and with some assistance from his sons had made a whole army of scarecrows for Fenton to practice on.

They finished just in time, too, as said duck had wearily made their way towards them, eyes wide as he ran up to his significant other.

"THERE ya are! Man, you can be a hard guy to pin down, ya know!"

"Nonsense," Scrooge replied, "it's a small place where everybody knows their neighbors. I stick out like a sore thumb among the lot." His eyes went half lidded as he went on, his bill turned in the slightest. "Besides, ye wanted training, didn't ya? Somebody had to go and get things ready."

Fenton looked over the set up and whistled.

"Talk about a crash course! Do we really need all of this?"

"Aye. You say you're just wanting t'learn how to defend, but I don't think it'll hurt t'learn a move or two in offense as well. You never know." Scrooge paused. " Unless you plan on changing your mind, of course. After all, I'm not the most patient of tutors."

"Changed my mind? _Me?_ Heck no! Only cowards change their minds! And me, why I'm the very opposite of a coward! I'm a, a..."

"A hero?" Scrooge finished, coyly, smirking.

"Yeah! That!"Fenton replied, beaming back twice as wide.

"Good. Now here, take this; a hero never leaves home without one of these."

The accountant-turned-knight frowned at the sword that was thrust into his hands. Ah, right. This thing. Fenton nodded, wordlessly, and stepped toward one of the scarecrows, cautiously. He shut his eyes tightly, and prepared to swing his sword... and stopped. His eyes opened, and he glanced at Scrooge, sheepishly.

"Uh, y'know, this hardly seems like a fair fight; only one of us has a brain!"

"Aye." Scrooge nodded, and approached him. "But you've faced harsher disadvantages before, you'll do fine now." He gave Fenton a hard shove toward his opponent. "Now get out there and show that straw man who's boss!"

Scrooge may have been old, but he was a strong old mallard. His shove sent Fenton stumbling forward, right into the scarecrow. His arms wrapped around it reflexively, before pitching to the side. The stick holding the thing in the ground held, but it spun the duck around until he was too dizzy to hold on, and collapsed to the ground in a dazed heap.

The scarecrow then snapped off its support and landed on top of him.

Scrooge gazed down at Fenton, and shook his head, sadly.

"Well, I definitely showed him who was boss!" Fenton reported, in a warbled tone. " _I just wished it was me._ "

The billionaire marched his way over to the fallen would-be-hero and pushed his stuffed opponent to the side before picking Fenton up by the collar. Scrooge glared as he thrust the weapon back in the other man's hand, interrupting his attempt to brush some of the dirt from his torn suit.

"Alright, you had your fun, now get serious." Placing his hands on the middle aged duck's shoulders, Scrooge turned him around and started moving him along to the next scarecrow to practice on. Once there he stopped, as the older mallard repositioned his pupil."Firstly, ye won't be slaying anyone with a stance like _that._ A mere gust would blow you down! Keep your legs apart for balance. Nice and close t'the ground, like that. _That's a good lad._ "

"What am I, your pet?" Fenton couldn't help but joke. "Next you'll be telling me to go fetch!"

"Hush now, "Scrooge cut him off sternly, " _and pay attention._ Now I want you to hold your sword so that it's against your side longways. It protects your midsection, and," he paused, as he guided Fenton's arms, resting his bill on the younger duck's back as they swung the dagger almost like it was a baseball bat. He carried on. "It lets you comfortably get into a nice swing."

"Yeah, it really _is_ nice." Fenton couldn't keep the dreamy lilt out of his voice, but that couldn't be helped. His heart was fluttering around in the clouds somewhere. He came to when the warmth on his back was gone.

"Alright, now try it on your own! Let's see whatcha got!"

"Huh? Oh! Right!" Fenton held his stance, and did his best to swing the sword in the manner his mentor had shown him. It made satisfying sounds as it sliced through the air. "Like this?"

"Not bad! Now why not try a tougher opponent than the wind, hm?"

Obviously, Scrooge meant the scarecrow. The praise had lifted Fenton's courage considerably, and he turned to strut toward his opponent. It stared at him, wordlessly, and faceless.

"Alright, buddy, prepare to meet your maker!"

Getting back into his stance, he mumbled to himself what his paramour had told him to do. Legs apart, close to the ground, arms to the side, and- he took a deep breath- SWING! Fenton closed his eyes as he put everything he had into the attack, cringing and shutting his eyes tighter when his sword came into contact. He opened his eyes slowly as he realized the dagger had cleanly went through the scarecrow like it was a stick of butter. Gasping excitedly, Fenton pointed towards the straw littered at his feet.

"Say, I did it!" He paused, actually feeling guilty as he looked at the remains of the upper torso of the stuffed opponent. "Yeesh, a little messy though, ain't it? I don't know if I'm okay with this, Scroogey."

"Nonsense!" The billionaire exclaimed happily, slapping his accountant affectionately on the tail feathers. "Ha! A few more hits like that, and it'll be YOU the dragon fears. Now, c'mon lad, let's try a couple more so you'll feel more confident, then we'll move onto blocking."

Fenton, still a bit worked up over the physical affection, gulped as he gazed across the field at the rest of the motionless army he was expected to defeat. Backing out now was out of the question, though. He suddenly felt as if he had something to prove. He needed to show to both himself and Scrooge that he really could do something right if he put his mind to it!

Fenton took a deep breath, and charged into battle, remembering what Scrooge had taught him.

"For Scrooge's love!" was his battle cry. "Uh, I mean, the glory!" Swick went the sword, and another scarecrow met its end. "And, treasure!" More straw carnage. "Don't forget adventure!" Another.

The younger mallard was beginning to feel pretty winded by the time Scrooge called at him to think fast. Think fast? Was that like counting fast? Because if so, he happened to be a pro! Why-

 _Was that half of a scarecrow flying toward his face?_

"Gyiiieey!" Fenton cried out in alarm. Going by instinct, the middle aged duck flinched, quickly bringing up the sword to shield himself. By doing so, the wood splintered and the attacking scarecrow fell to the ground in defeat. Fenton didn't know what to think, and was doubly confused when Scrooge started hollering in excitement.

"Haha! That's the ticket, lad!" The older mallard's face was lit up in delight as he made his way over. It was then that Fenton realized what happened as he gasped in surprise.

"You.. you threw that me! Whatcha tryin' t'do, give me a face full of splinters?"

Scrooge chuckled.

"Only if my hunch hadn't been correct. But I had a sneaky suspicion you were more coordinated than your bumbling antics let on. " He smirked, smugly flicking off a piece of wood that had landed on his partner's shoulder. "And let me tell ya, _I don't make it a habit of being wrong_."

Fenton couldn't stay angry even if he had wanted too... which he didn't. Scrooge had believed in him so much, he was willing to risk blinding him to prove it, aww. Wait, was that aww? Let's go with aww.

"Well, I guess I've got blocking down, too, huh, Scroogey?" Fenton poked at a chunk of wood on the ground with his foot. He was ready for a break. And maybe a nice cool glass of lemonade, too. The metallic sound of a sword being unsheathed brought his gaze back up in a hurry.

Scrooge stood there, sword outstretched in front of him, stance ready, a hint of a sly smirk on his bill.

"Not so fast, Fenton Crackshell. Your lesson's just begun!"

Ignoring the fact they were actually in the middle of the lesson already- so Fenton didn't know HOW it could have been classified as only beginning- he instead gulped and focused on the fact he had his paramour pointing a weapon at him. He dropped his sword, taking a leap back.

"YIKES! You… You CAN'T be serious!"

" _Very._ Now I'm goin' t'give ya five seconds t'pick up your sword." The old mallard kept his stance, eyes narrowing. "One…. two…"

Fenton didn't need any other motivation than that. And then Scrooge, very much true to his word, came at him. The accountant ducked as the other man slashed at where he head would be, Fenton making quick work to scurry around the billionaire and get on his other side. It was as he did so that the case with the gizmosuit fell from the rope he had been using to attach it to his back. It was with quick thinking that Fenton grabbed for it, using it just in time to block another oncoming attack.

"Smart, I'll give ya that, lad." Scrooge gave his praise. "But you cannea block forever! You gotta make a move!"

"I'm not gonna attack you, Scroogey! I just… can't!" Fenton leapt back as another strike came, just barely missing his webbed toes. The experienced adventurer was not going to let up, no matter what the younger mallard said. But couldn't McDuck see? Couldn't he understand that Fenton wasn't the type to hurt anybody? Especially not the one he loved! Eyes wide and alert, Fenton desperately tried to think of a plan as he avoided and blocked the attacks.

' _C'mon, what's that thing he's always saying?_ ' The accountant thought to himself. ' _Think smarter, not harder. But how's a guy to think when he's trying not to get the world's deepest papercut!_ '

It was while blocking another swing from Scrooge that inspiration struck. As the older mallard raised his arms high to slash down on him, Fenton took a step forward as he raised the case high. Taking Scrooge's moment of surprise to his advantage, the younger duck dropped his sword as he used his fingers to tickle his paramour's side.

" _Coochie coochie coo!_ "

Scrooge began to squirm, and the beautiful sound of the old mallard's laughter filled Fenton's ears. The sword was lowered, and Scrooge swatted Fenton's hand away, impatiently, but not unkindly.

"Don't tell me you plan on tickling the dragon into submission." said Scrooge, after he had regained some composure. Fenton's face lit up in what only could have been optimistic hope.

"Gee, you think he'll be ticklish?"

"Not likely." Scrooge stuck his sword into the soft ground, and leaned on it. "But you've made your case. Well done, lad."

"Really?!" Fenton gawked at him. That had actually worked?

"Sure. I let my guard down, and your quick thinkin' not only spotted it, but reacted just in time. Under pressure, no less! Lesson over. Yeh passed."

Fenton grinned widely when Scrooge held out a hand for a friendly handshake, a "I'm proud of you, well done" handshake. He took it gladly.

He didn't get many shakes in before he was spun around, back against Scrooge's chest, a sword pressed lightly to his neck. Fenton gulped. What the heck just happened?!

"Now, on to lesson two: _don't let your own guard down, either._ "

Fenton didn't need to see the smirk on Scrooge's face, he could hear it in his voice. He was released, and Scrooge was already strolling away.

"But that's for another day. You've earned a break." The older mallard threw a look over his shoulder, mid stride, to his younger partner. One that clearly read in his silence: 'you coming?' The accountant didn't need any other incentive as his heart pounded in his chest and he excitedly followed after him to who knew where.

Fenton decided then and there that maybe, _just maybe_ , there was something about this sword fighting thing after all.


	7. Once Upon A Time

Dobenshire hadn't always been a kingdom stricken with grief. Once upon a time, many a moon ago, the land had been filled with peace. The glorious King Ulric had come into power during a dark spell- the neighboring kingdom having declared war upon the land. It was with the king's quick wit and kind word that he was able to defuse the situation- without a single son needing to sacrifice their life.

This alone made King Ulric a favorite among his people, but the fact he kept the taxes low and let the lands flourish made him a favorite among their coin purses as well. When their majesty married a humble farmer's daughter, there was celebration. And with the royal births of the twin princesses, the people took the day to give their blessings to the family. Peace and wealth spread for twenty years, and the villagers across Dobenshire cherished every moment of it.

It was with a heavy heart that one day their Princess Millicent had come to her people in grief, informing them of the tragedy that had struck: how the king, queen, and her sister had died in a horrible attack.

Namely, that of a vicious dragon. It had come in the night, she claimed, and devoured her family with no mercy given.

Her word was trusted. And why not? Who had reason to question such a fair princess' words? She was certainly grief-stricken enough for the tale to hold true. And it was during her grief that Princess Millicent had risen into power.

 _If only her subjects had known the truth._

The young royalty may have lived a privileged and peaceful life, but it didn't come without its own problems. Growing up Millicent had felt the growing pressure of being compared to her twin sister, Helena the fair. Princess Helena was everything that she was not: she was skilled with the harp- the kingdom knew her to have the voice of angel to accompany her playing. Among the palace populace, Helena had been known to have the patience of a saint, and with the charisma to charm all. Many a times Princess Millicent had caught their shared ladies-in-waiting praising how much they enjoyed spending time with the older twin. In and out, from both her parents and the people around her it was the same: ' _why couldn't you be like your dear, precious sister?'_

And with each passing day, each passing year, Princess Millicent felt herself grow colder- more distant from those around her. Why expose herself to others when all they wanted was stupid, perfect, Helena?

It was the day of their 18th birthday- when their father announced who would be next in line to the throne- that Millicent had enough. She supposed she should have saw it coming, not only was her sister TECHNICALLY the oldest, but she had always been the pet of the castle. And still, to her own surprise, she had hoped that maybe the day would come and they would give them a fair chance. Make them EARN the right to rule the land!

But instead Millicent had been kicked to the curb, _just like always_.

As fate would have it, it was around that time that the young scorned princess came into possession of a book, hidden away in the court magician's tower. It was a very special book. A book that told of many things, such as how to bend the hearts of weak minded beasts to your will. But what really captured her attention was the chapter labelled ' _The Shadow Realm'_. It told of what it was- another world filled with darkness, and how even time couldn't breach its existence- and just how to reach it.

The more she read about it, the more she became certain that it was the perfect, permanent vacation spot for her so-called family- a place where they could think about all the wrongs they cast against her for the rest of eternity.

And so, one night, a mighty storm rolled in out of nowhere. If anyone had bothered to ask those few who witnessed it, they would have sworn the storm came from the castle itself. As the winds howled, and lightning flashed, a foul beast swooped in and stole Millicent's family away.

But the beast was no dragon. Only an angry, vengeful princess.

And so Princess Millicent ruled over the land, and with it came a blanket of darkness. She raised taxes to the point families were starving, and those that couldn't pay up suddenly found their livestock missing. It was easy to blame some imaginary dragon, as it was common to fear them. Pets and animals suddenly gone in the middle of the night? Blame the dragon! The people then could be lured in with promises that their money was going to knights paid to kill the foul beast.

It was many months like this that the kingdom suffered, until one day the court magician came back home. It was obvious to him that dark forces were at work, and he warned the princess that those that used wickedness to gain, ended up losing everything in the end. Princess Millicent scoffed, ordering her guards to kick the old fool out of her palace. The magician raised a hand, stopping them. He would leave on his own, he said, but not without issuing one last warning.

The book may have granted her infinite magic: her will alone giving her the strength even an army of knights would fear. She would be able to, single handedly, take on all weapon made by man. However, and this was the catch, there was one weapon that had the power to defeat her: the legendary sword, Excalibur. A weapon guarded by a dragon of old, that no mortal of their time can acquire.

The princess laughed at this, the magician was crazy! 'No mortal of their time'? Utter nonsense! Millicent, having her fill of his ramblings, sent him on his way.

And yet, later that same night, the wicked maiden found herself wide awake as she wondered at the possibilities. What if… what he said was true? That the sword of legend, even in her time, was real? What if that truly was the only weapon out there capable of taking down her whole empire? No, she wouldn't allow it! Not even on the chance that what the fool spoke was all lies meant to spook her! She had to get her hands on Excalibur and make sure no one could ever use it against her!

Still, it seemed to her that luck was still on her side. Her lie about a dragon taking her family away fit into this perfectly. It only took a little bit of research to find which dragon protected the legendary sword, and where it dwelt. A bounty was placed upon its head the very next day, charged with the murder of her family.

Few took up the challenge; even the promise of all the treasure the dragon's hoard wasn't enough to persuade the largely peaceful empire to take a stand. The few who did either returned empty handed, or never returned at all. Eventually, they just stopped trying. This, of course, infuriated the princess. So the loss of her family, their very own king and queen, wasn't enough to fuel their fires? That was fine. She wondered how they would feel about that very same dragon setting fire to their homes, their crops, and devouring their livestock. Maybe then, they would rise to her cause.

It wasn't difficult to brainwash the local swamp wyverns. While mighty in stature and strength, their wit tended to be severely lacking. And who would notice a difference between a wyvern and a dragon? Certainly none of those fools.

When time passed, even still, homes being destroyed on a daily basis, and the passive people were just letting it go by… It infuriated her to no end. It didn't make SENSE! They should have been rising to the cause in their anger, demanding to find the dragon themselves to take it down. Fathers and son going off to war against the beast protecting the very sword she coveted- and yet… They hid with their wives and daughters in fear. Cowering away, or learning to move on with their lives despite it all. How could they be so INDIFFERENT to the injustice she unleashed on them?!

It was during a fit of rage that Princess Millicent realized that she would yet again have to take matters into her own hands. But what was a poor demented evil ruler to do when their subjects had lost all hope? Who would be the hero they needed? It was then when a memory struck her. What was it that the castle magician had said? 'No mortal of their time'? What did that mean? How did it fit into the grand scheme of everything?

It was one day during her royal bubble bath that she discovered her missing puzzle piece. Time, the matter was time. As in not the people currently there, existing, in her lifetime. Scurrying from her bath, water sloshing to the floor in her mad dash down the halls towards her room where she had the book hidden, Millicent flipped through the pages before finding the spell she would need.

She needed a hero in this production of her's? FINE. She would make her own knight in shining armor appear!

But time-travelling heroes didn't just appear out of nowhere every day. The princess knew she had to cover her tracks before the spell was cast. The next morning, a grand hearing was held, every person in the kingdom was to attend (and most did; no one had reason not to adore the young, poor, mourning princess).

When the courtyard was full, the trumpets announced her arrival. The crowd quieted as she made her way to the balcony, and there she spoke of a vision she had. She told of how the spirits of the great had visited her and how they had spoken of heroes from the future. Heroes that would, undoubtedly, slay the beast that terrorized them all and end their suffering.

The land rejoiced. And so did the princess. Soon, the sword would be hers, and the price would amount to nothing more than two more names on the dragon's victims list.

 _Or, at least, that would be what the kingdom would be told._

And thus brought the Princess back to the present as she watched the two heroes from her throne- her magic amulet helping her keep an eye on everything they did. Studying them closely she had discovered that foreigners from the future made strange people- but seeing as they were very much capable, especially the older duck, she would let them be. It was what they could do for her, not what they were that concerned her.

Except she couldn't help but glare at the bumbling oaf as everything he did or said seemed to cause the travelers to stop. Whether it was helping people here or training to fight there- that Fenton Crackshell slowed down the process! Why, Millicent couldn't understand why her spell had dragged him along at all!

Whatever its reasons, she would have to trust it. As she watched and waited, a wicked smile flashed across her face as she recognized the trail the heroes were on. Her eyes focused on the mountain that laid dead ahead, and where she knew her spoils to be.

Soon Excalibur would be hers.


	8. The End of the Line

Darkness. Lots of inky darkness. Looking deeply into the cave in front of the two ducks, Fenton Crackshell couldn't help but tremble as loud ominous snoring could be heard coming from the pitch blackness. The older duck next to him, however, rolled up the map and stuffed it inside his coat as he prepared himself to march inside.

Only to be stopped by a hand suddenly grabbing his sleeve and jerking him back.

"Wait! Are ya nuts?! You're just gonna go in there? Just like that?!" Fenton's voice was low, practically a whisper as to not disturb whatever was making the snores, but that did nothing to hinder his wild exclamations. Scrooge glared, forcefully taking his arm back with a huff. Just as quietly, he replied with a cross of his arms.

"Well we very well can't wait out here, now can we? I didn't come all this way NOT t'get me sword." Or the promised fortune, for that matter.

"But what about a plan? What, you just plan on sneaking in there as the guy sleeps, and just cut his head off or something?" Scrooge gave the younger duck a deadpan stare, as Fenton quickly put the pieces together. " _...Oh._ That IS your plan, huh?"

"More or less. Now, let's go already. I don't want t'get caught in the rain."

Fenton was confused.

"Rain? What rain?" The sound of thunder suddenly roared through the heavens, causing the accountant to cry out in alarm. He jumped into his paramour's arms, nearly causing them both to stumble to the ground. Fenton looked up at the sky with hesitation. "O-OH! THAT rain! Heh."

Scrooge didn't say anything. He merely frowned, and dropped Fenton to the ground. The younger mallard sat and watched as Scrooge went on ahead into the darkness, and he sighed.

"Aw. He dropped me so much more gentle than usual! He MUST love me!"

It wasn't long before Fenton caught up, huddled up so close to Scrooge that it was difficult to walk.

"I can't see anything in here!" Fenton whispered. "A few candles would really improve the atmosphere of this place, y'know?"

" _Shh!_ " Scrooge hissed. "Listen! It sounds close..."

Fenton did listen. What was that sound? It was a very familiar sound. It reminded him of home. Suddenly, he realized why.

"It sounds like M'ma! What's she doing way back when?"

"I don't think it's your mother, lad. Only a dragon snores like that!"

Fenton scoffed. "Hah! You've never heard M'ma, then."

The billionaire rolled his eyes at this, but remained silent. It was not the time to be thinking about his accountant's lazy mother, not when there was an upcoming threat lurking somewhere deep in the shadows.A threat that had murdered many others before them. The closer they got, however, Scrooge's body began to tingle in delight. He stopped, Fenton nearly bumping into him, as he whispered.

"We're getting close."

"Gee, what makes ya say that?" Fenton asked. He didn't know about Scrooge, but he could barely see the hand in front of his face- let alone anything else. The older duck scoffed at this.

"Trust me, lad, I can sense money from a mile away. And this place is LOADED- with gold, no doubt!"

Fenton somehow found himself readily believing him. If the man's collection back home had proven anything, it was that he was practically a money magnet. McDuck, meanwhile, treaded carefully in the darkness, one hand sliding along the cave wall for balance and bearings. He was silently cursing himself for being so unprepared; why hadn't they asked for a lantern or torch before setting out? Caves were dark, it was a fact of life!

As if sensing this train of thought, he felt Fenton stop in his tracks.

"Wait a second, a candle! I DO have a candle! I hate to use up the parting gift from that nice candlestick maker, but this is an emergency!"

Scrooge waited, rather impatiently, listening as Fenton rummaged around blindly in his makeshift pack.

"Ah-ha! Here it is! ... Let's see now, how do I... I don't suppose you've got a match on ya?"

The question was directed at Scrooge, but it was answered by someone else. The whole cave was lit up in an instant, causing both of them to squint, when a blast of fire erupted between them, effectively melting Fenton's candle in his hands.

"Ow." Fenton whimpered.

But the candle was no longer needed; the fire had spread around the room, creating a ring of flame around the cavern, cutting off their exits, but providing enough light to see by. The middle aged mallard was now wishing he couldn't see, however, as a massive beast towered over them, its size making the wyverns from earlier seem like robins. It glared down at them with eyes gleaming green in the flickering light.

Its roar shook the cave walls.

The younger of the two yelped, and dove behind Scrooge, but Scrooge barely saw the dragon, OR noticed Fenton, for that matter. He stood, transfixed, at what laid behind it. Sparkling in the firelight was the very fortune the billionaire had been promised. Piles upon piles of gold- enough to rival his very money bin back home. Mouth agape, with the ka-ching of dollar signs in his eyes, McDuck began to walk in a zombie-like state towards his new beloved.

Only to be stopped.

"Snap outta it, Scrooge!" The accountant cried, grabbing onto the end of the older duck's shirt as he was dragged along. The dragon growled, bringing its mouth closer as it rested it on the floor in order to glare at the trespassing ducks. Fenton yiped, using all his might to turn himself around to try and pull his love the opposite direction. He pleaded some more. "Halt! Stop! Desist! _Help, help, HEEEELP_!"

Fenton's cry did not go on deaf ears, as it was just the thing to snap Scrooge out of his trance. Coming to, he was looking dead in the eyes with the beast- the striking green a contrast against obsidian scales. It opened its mouth- no doubt in the old mallard's mind that the creature was preparing for another attack- when suddenly Scrooge, grabbing tightly onto his partner, rolled out of the way and into the nearest pile of treasure.

Just nearly avoiding being snatched up by a mouth full of sharp teeth.

"Talk about cuttin' it a lil' close!" Fenton gulped. Scrooge meanwhile, was not in the mood for jokes. Pushing his partner further back- who in turn fell off the coin pile in the process- Scrooge pulled out his sword.

"Stand back, lad. Before ye lose more than a nibble." The dragon, during this time, had repositioned itself as it got ready to come in for another attack. But the old mallard was ready for them. "That's right, ya overgrown handbag, come learn why nobody messes with a member of clan McDuck!"

Scrooge charged.

Fenton watched in horror as the dragon slid out of the way of the slashing sword with the ease and grace of a beast that had seen its fair share of treasure hunters. And no doubt devoured them, he thought with dread. But Scrooge was no rookie, either, and leaped out of the way of snapping jaws with just as much poise.

As he watched the two fight... looking oddly more like an intricate dance routine than an actual battle... something was nagging at the back of Fenton's mind. It was that tugging feeling you get when you feel like you've forgotten something. An important detail, that might-

"The sword!" he cried out, his exclamation heard only by himself. The princess had said that the dragon couldn't be defeated with an ordinary sword. It must be killed with a special sword. The very sword that they had been looking for before this whole thing even started! And according to her, it should be right...

"Ah-hah!" Fenton's scanning gaze caught sight of the mighty weapon, jutting up from the tallest pile of treasure. While Fenton still had his hesitations about slaying anything, the sound of battle echoed off the cave walls, driving him to act on impulse and go for it. Nearly tripping over the treasure under his feet, the middle aged duck yanked Excalibur from its golden prison.

Now all he had to do was get it to his beloved before his goose got cooked.

"Scroogey, catch!" Luckily for Fenton, McDuck's fast reflexes kicked in full gear and he was effortlessly able to catch the sword. It was in the same stroke that he swung the blade- just as the dragon slashed a mighty taloned claw. Successfully cutting through its fingers. The beast gave a shrill cry of agony.

The old mallard, however, laughed in triumph.

"A-ha! There's plenty more where THAT came from!"

The dragon, now an obvious and genuine look of fear on its features, began to back up nervously. The strange traveler had found its weakness, and the creature seemed to know it. Limping backwards- coins shuffling under its feet- the dragon roared as it let out another stream of fire.

The fire was easily avoided, the dragon's aim suffering in its panic. When the mallard just kept coming, its last resort dodged like it was nothing, it scrambled backward more. The slippery coins under its feet provided no traction, however, and its next fire blast didn't even come close to hitting its mark.

That was mostly due to the dragon toppling over backward, the treacherous treasure under it betraying its protector and spilling it to the ground. The blast meant for McDuck spouted upward, instead, scorching the cave ceiling with searing flame.

Scrooge had just enough time to duck and roll out of the way of the chunk of rock that the blast shook free, but the dragon hadn't been so lucky. It lay, helpless, atop the mountain of treasure it had spent its whole life protecting, the very rocks that made up its home keeping it prisoner under its unforgiving weight.

Scrooge McDuck came upon the fallen creature, raising Excalibur as he prepared to end it once and for all…

Only to stop as Fenton threw himself in front of the blade.

"STOOOOP!"

" _Curse me kilts!_ " The old mallard jerked himself backwards, before glaring at his suicidal accountant. "What do ye think you're doin', Fenton?! I almost nicked your head clean off!"

Fenton waved his hand to the dragon- who flinched its neck to the side as it looked at the two ducks wearily- before going on.

"I'm saving you from making a big mistake, Scroogey! You were about to murder an innocent animal over… Over a mountain of gold!"

The billionaire's sharp look intensified.

"It attacked us, I'd HARDLY call the beast innocent." Scrooge placed a hand on Fenton as he attempted to move him. "Now step aside-"

" **NO!** " The middle aged duck jerked the hand off of him, and then surprised McDuck once more as he proceeded to throw himself on top of the dragon- cupping its head like one would a beloved pet. "It was an innocent animal protecting its home. Look at 'em, Scroogey, look! It's scared!"

And look Scrooge did, slowly lowering his sword. A look of uncertainty crossed his face, before sternly arguing.

"What about the villagers? It's been running wild destroying property!"

"No no, " Fenton shook his head violently. "The not-dragons, remember? We found them burning everything, betcha they've been the ones busy in the other towns, too!"

Scrooge blinked at Fenton.

"But... who would frame an innocent dragon? And more importantly, why?"

Fenton didn't have an answer, but it wouldn't have mattered if he had. Scrooge stumbled back and lifted an arm up to shield his eyes from the blinding light that Fenton was suddenly emitting. No,not Fenton...

The medallion around his neck.

When the light finally faded, there stood the princess, Fenton struggling in her grip as she held him off the ground by the neck of his shirt.

"You!" she snarled. "You have been nothing but a hindrance this entire journey! A thorn in my side!"

The old mallard instantly went into a battle stance, as his partner struggled to escape the princess' clutches.

"Drop him! NOW!"

Millicent rolled her eyes, before turning one of her hands into a monstrous claw- holding it up to Fenton's temple.

"Back down, old man, or I'll be tempted to harm what very little brains your friend has."

"Don't listen to her," Fenton cried, "she's bluffing!" The added pressure to the side of his head drew enough blood to be visible against the mallard's feathers. The accountant yiped from pain, and Scrooge instantly did as he was told. This pleased the woman as she smiled triumphantly.

"You always _were_ the smart one. Now, I'm considering a trade. All I want is the sword, your lives mean nothing to me one way or the other."

Scrooge didn't feel like giving her the sword was the best idea. But outright refusing her wouldn't have ended well, either. It was time for Plan C: stall.

"What do you want with this old thing? You don't seem like a collector to me. And while we're at it, why all this? What do you stand to gain from it all?"

The princess suddenly looked startled, and mildly offended.

"What, did you completely skip over the last chapter? I've already told my story, and I'll not be telling it again! Now, are you going to give me the sword, or watch your little jester friend perish right in front of you?"

What choice did he have? He would have to hand it over. But that was fine. Scrooge McDuck had always been good at dealing with problems as they arose.

"You want it? Fine! Take it!"

The sword was hurled at the princess, who shrieked, watching the honed blade that spelled her doom nearing swiftly.. Fenton was dropped, forgotten and unimportant, as she recoiled just in time to avoid taking a sword to the face. It flew past her, slicing off a lock of her hair as it went, and stuck fast in the side of the treasure pile.

Millicent whirled around to face Scrooge, her features contorted in an ugly mask of pure rage.

"For that, you'll both perish!" she screeched, her cry not unlike that of an enraged harpy. The ground itself shook in her fury, and Scrooge had time to wonder just how powerful this she-beast was. An answer came with a blast of magic from her hands- a gust of wind sending the old mallard flying into the opposite cave wall. Scrooge felt as if he had been squeezed like a bagpipe- all the air snatched from his lungs from the impact. Before he could get his bearings, he was surprised as a large piece of the ceiling crashed next to him. McDuck, sensing this wouldn't be the last, began to dodge and jump as boulders fell.

He had been so focused on the rocks, he forgot to watch out for vile magic wielding princesses. Scrooge realized his mistake fast as he was shot with yet another gust of wind. Princess Millicent didn't end the attack there, as she then shot up at the top of the cave with a blast of light- causing McDuck's legs to get crushed from the weight.

The woman came upon him, hands glowing and charged green as she readied herself to end it once and for all.

"Don't worry, brave knight," she sneered sarcastically as Scrooge tried dislodging the rock off of him, only to cry out in pain. The princess continued. "You'll be mourned as yet another poor victim of the heartless dragon. Ta ta!"

 _ **Thunk.**_

"Hey! Over here! Let's see how **you** like it!"

Millicent rubbed the back of her head where the rock had hit her and turned to glower at the foolish jester, who was winding up to chuck another.

"What are you doing, you idiot! Get out of here!" Scrooge cried, angrily. But Fenton didn't plan on listening, when had he ever?

"That's right!" Fenton tried holding on to what moxie he had left, most of it drained the moment her hateful eyes fell upon him. "It's me you want dead, right? Remember me, that pesky thorn in your side?"

The princess sneered when he turned to shake his rear at her. The nerve!

"You won't distract me so easily! I'll not be fooled!" Nevertheless, she began advancing toward Fenton, seeming more to glide than walk. "But if you want death so badly, _then so be it._ " She extended a hand out to the side as she came closer. "Let the dragon finish your friend! I'll take care of you!"

A bolt of power shot out from her hand, her cold gaze never leaving the quaking accountant, and shattered the rubble that had been holding the dragon captive.

Fenton ran. He ducked and swerved from the vile villainess' onslaught of attacks. Fireballs, jolts of lightning, even gusts of wind could not pin that allusive accountant down. The princess growled in frustration.

"Would you hold STILL?!"

Fenton, dodging yet another ball of flame as he started his way towards the exit, stopped long enough to put in his two cents.

"Not with you throwing everything but the kitchen sink at me! Magic ain't playing fair, ya know!"

"You want fair, do you?" Millicent, noting the sword just mere inches away from her, smiled triumphantly as she grabbed Excalibur. She had what she came for, but she decided then and there she wouldn't leave without one less annoyance in the world- one dead clown. "Alright, I'll kill you with the very sword I sent you fools searching for!"

The princess charged, and Fenton realized the chase had yet again begun- this time sending him down the dark cave halls and outside. He nearly slid on a slippery rock as the middle aged duck realized that it was raining- getting heavier with every minute. Oh, maybe this had been the wrong direction to take. But he needed her as far away from Scrooge as possible! Fenton didn't have time to think of another route as the foul felonious ruler was quickly upon him- Excalibur nearly striking his foot as he slid to the side and out of its way. It was in the scuffle that the rope tying the case with the gizmosuit came undone- giving Fenton a stroke of inspiration as he remembered his sparring practice from the other day.

And it was with that inspiration that he used the briefcase to shield himself when the princess aimed to strike him once more.

Meanwhile, back in the cave, the beast had arisen. Scrooge was trapped, unarmed, and at its mercy. The dragon peered down at him, eyes shining, as if contemplating the best way to end this.

Scrooge was scared, only a fool wouldn't have been; things looked pretty grim for the wealthy mallard. But that didn't mean he didn't plan on going out fighting.

"Well, what are you waitin' for? You've got me where you want me, so come and get it!" His fists were raised, his gaze cold, his heart set on giving it one last go. The dragon's tail lashed out, and Scrooge cringed, in spite of himself.

There was pain, but to his surprise, it wasn't from an impact, but rather from the rock's weight being removed from his opened his eyes he hadn't remembered screwing shut, just in time to watch the dragon trudging tiredly back toward its pile of treasure. Scrooge struggled to stand as it plopped down on its treasure pile, and promptly fell back to sleep.

"You're no monster." Scrooge said, more to himself than his scaly friend, and shook his head, slowly. "Why, you're just an avid treasure collector! A dragon after me own heart." It took a real lover of money to appreciate a bed made of gold, after all.

"Bah, what am I doing! There's no time for this!" His short bout of sentimental drivel over, the billionaire turned and began limping as quickly as he was able, back toward where Fenton and the princess had given chase.

Every pained waddle, however, was no match for the speed and agility of the two fighting 'til the death, as every thrust and block sent them higher up the mountain. The weather only worsen, as Fenton became blind from the mini monsoon. Like a watery curtain, the constant downpour was only interrupted by the equally constant slice of Excalibur. The princess may have been quick with her attack, but her rage made her swings wild and not at all precise- an unlikely stroke of luck, even if the defending hero wasn't in the mood for seeing it as such.

Fenton tried reasoning with her.

"C'mon Milly," he shouted over the storm, " don'tcha think this is going a lil' too far?" The mallard yipped as he ducked and rolled backwards, quickly scurrying back to his feet as he continued to reason. "I'm sure there is a lady of decency in you, somewhere! Why, think of what your ol' m'ma would say 'bout the way you're actin'!"

This only angered the princess more as her eyes glowed red from her fury. But still she said nothing as her attacks came even faster. Fenton was now practically swinging the makeshift shield as if he was playing an awkward game of pattycake- metal clashing against the briefcase. Okay, so mothers were apparently a touchy topic, maybe there was another way to appeal to her inner sense of right and wrong? Talk about all the people she had been hurting, make her see that she wasn't the only one with problems!

Fenton didn't get to address any of it, as yet another step backwards proved to be impossible- the raging princess had led him to the edge of a cliff! Princess Millicent laughed as she raised her sword, as her other hand snatched and held onto Fenton's collar. From Fenton's point of view, Millicent looked more like an evil witch than a fair princess. Her long hair was stringy and glued to her head and face from the rain. Lightning lit up the sky, providing her with quite the dramatic backdrop. The look in her eyes spoke of murder, even as her bill turned into a grin as she spoke over the storm.

"This is the end of the line, clown. Your antics no longer amuse me. There's nothing left for you to say." Fenton began to open his bill to protest- he was very much sure he had MANY words left to say- but was stopped by his capture's glare. "It WASN'T optional. Goodbye, hero!"

This truly was the end. He was done for! Fenton only hoped Scrooge would be okay, and got home safely, and M'ma! She-

In the end, it was Millicent's own dramatic backdrop that sealed her demise. Come to find out, holding a metal sword to the sky in a violent lightning storm was a _**bad**_ idea.

There was barely enough time for the accountant to see her expression change from triumphant mad woman, to, quite literally, shocked, when lightning licked from the sky, and grabbed hold of the makeshift lightning rod. Karma didn't seem to concerned with who its victims were, as just a mere moment after Fenton, himself, was feeling the full effect of the electricity. They both screamed in agony- Princess Millicent's hand jerked away from the sword, as she lost her footing on the slippery rocks.

Sending the both of them tumbling off the cliff, just as Scrooge made it to the top of the mountain.

"FENTON!" Running as fast as his injured leg would allow, adrenaline and panic taking over, the old mallard looked down at the side of the cliff in horror. He had hoped, maybe by an illogical stroke of luck, he would find his significant other clinging for dear life. Or maybe the oaf had landed on a ledge just a few meters below- a little worse for wear, but still alive and kicking!

 _Instead, all that greeted him was the endless blackness of night._


	9. Words Not Said

" _No._ "

Scrooge found himself collapsing to the ground. What momentum he had left was stolen from him as his chest became tight and heavy as the realization struck him. Fenton… _was gone._ Fenton had sacrificed himself by luring the princess out into the storm, just to… just to give HIM a chance to escape.

"You idiot! Ye moron!" Scrooge hit the ground, the puddle under him splashing his sleeves slightly from the impact. He hit it again and again, feeling far more comfortable with his fury. He grit his teeth, already beginning to feel the sting of tears.

"You never think! You had your whole life ahead of you! And what did ye do? Ya gone and wasted it on some silly old man!"

The sky rumbled, and Scrooge screamed back at it, full of rage.

"I told him from the beginning that it was a stupid idea!" he leapt to his feet, and glared at the inky abyss below. "A young man has no business courtin' an old man. It's ridiculous!" He kicked a rock over the edge. It disappeared in a hurry, swallowed up by the emptiness.

"If you hadn't been so persistent... I woulda' come here all alone."

Alone. Just like he was now. The driving rain and flashing sky offered no comfort in the realization that, in the end, he had no one to blame but himself. In a flash, memories from over the days hit him one after another, as Scrooge began remembering every moment Fenton had been right. He had been the one who felt uncomfortable with slaying the dragon from the start. It was Fenton who felt unease about the Princess, as the old billionaire stubbornly latched onto the word 'fortune' and wouldn't listen to any others. It was yet again his own greed that had gotten them into danger, however this time it was Fenton- _sweet, wonderful, idiotic Fenton_ \- who had paid the price.

The old mallard threw his face in his hand as he heaved out a pained and uneven sigh. "Oh, oh Fenton… _What have I done?_ "

From his peripheral vision, Scrooge spotted the sword laying on the ground a few feet away. The princess must have dropped it when they were struck. He picked it up, turned it over, and shook his head. He found he didn't want it anymore. Who would after that? It would serve fine as a headstone for now, though.

The weapon was driven through the rocky earth. It gleamed every time the sky lit up. Scrooge removed his hat, placed it over his chest, and knelt before the makeshift grave.

"Lad, I... I'm sorry. I know sorry doesn't quite cut it, but I'm sorry for so much more than this." The grave grew blurry as he fought back tears he refused to shed. "There's just so much this stubborn old goat never got to tell you."

"Well, you're gonna have to speak up! I can't hear a thing over this rain!"

Scrooge whipped his head around so fast his neck ached from the sudden jerk. That was ignored, however, as he stared in awe. There, before his own old eyes, was Gizmoduck hovering via propeller. The mechanical wonder had barely landed back onto the ground, when he was tackled- landing on his back with a loud thud. Where Fenton was prepared to receive a good wallop, he was instead surprised to find himself grabbed by the collar as smooch after smooch was placed on his cheek and bill with no discrimination.

"You big oaf!" Scrooge laughed inbetween kisses, completely overwhelmed by his own relief. "You nincompoop! I swear, laddie, _I could just beat ye were you stand!_ "

Gizmoduck, melting and flustered from the affection, found himself raising his visor as he had to fight the urge to look away shyly.

"Gosh, Scroogey, you're givin' all SORTS of mixed signals here!"

The old mallard chuckled at the joke, feeling good to know it truly wasn't the last he'd hear an ill placed wisecrack.

"Enough of that, how in the world did you survive? I thought the gizmosuit was nothing but a hunk of overpriced junk in this time!"

"Naw. I just forgot to charge the stupid thing before we left! I guess that bolt of lightning was just the get-up-and-go it needed."

Scrooge laughed again, a hearty guffaw, and boy was it a wonderful sound to hear. He pulled Gizmoduck upright, and gave him a good slap on his metal back.

"I should've known your dumb luck would turn even a bolt of lightning into good fortune! Eh, and speakin' of that..." Scrooge glanced back at the cliff. "Is the princess...?"

Gizmoduck's visor fell back into place, and the mechanical wonder frowned deeply, a hand to his chest.

"Well... _Gizmoduck can't be everyone's hero, I suppose._ "

While the duck behind the suit felt remorse, the billionaire next to him did not.

"No, I suppose not. Serves her right." The sky roared with thunder once more, when the old mallard made a decision then and there. With plans of grabbing Excalibur and getting them back to the cave for shelter, Scrooge took a step forward and instantly regretted it. With the earlier adrenaline leaving him, the pain from his injured leg had returned. Nearly falling over, Gizmoduck quickly went into action as he put out his hands to catch his stumbling lover.

"Jimminy's sake! Are you alright?!"

Scrooge, glaring at his own leg, attempted to wave the lad off as he got back onto his own two feet.

"Just a trip leg provided as a free parting gift from that blasted woman. If I use me cane, I should be more than capable." He limped forward, his face almost fully hiding the cringe as he did so. "Now grab the sword and let's get out of the rain before anything else happens to us!" Scrooge didn't get far before he found himself scooped up and tucked safely into two robotic arms. The old mallard growled. " _Fenton!_ "

"I know, I know, you hate it." Gizmoduck already started towards the sword where- with a quick press of a button- an additional robotic hand sprung out to grab it. The hero went on. "But you know what they say, sir, we hero always err on the side of caution!"

"I've seen more caution from a runned down chemical plant," McDuck grumbled. But it wasn't full of bite, and even Fenton knew it, as Scrooge couldn't hide his smirk. Nor how he began to relax into his hero's arms. The billionaire scoffed as he caught the younger duck staring. "WELL? Are we goin' or do you have plans to rust?"

Gizmoduck didn't need to be told again. With both of them safe and relatively unharmed, it gave the hero hope that maybe their story would have a happy ending after all.

* * *

After the darkest hour comes rays of hope, and after the rain came sunshine. A night of rest gave the two time travelers time to enjoy their quiet as they contemplated what they must do next. Thankfully the dragon made for a good host as it kept the two ducks warm after being drenched by the storm, and it made Scrooge all the more thankful he had listened to Fenton about it.

"You really are a generous creature, " the old mallard commented as the dragon allowed for Fenton to splint his injured leg with two gold bricks. Gold, while certainly valuable, wasn't the sturdiest of metals. Still, it would make do until they could see a doctor or some equivalent of one. Scrooge continued to speak, as Fenton moved on to bandage up the monster's paw. "It's such a shame you had t'get mixed up in all this nonsense."

The middle aged mallard, gently applying antiseptic from the Gizmosuit's first aid kit, stopped to pat the dragon affectionately.

"Aww, he knows you didn't mean any harm!" Fenton stopped as he realized his words weren't true in the slightest. Smiling awkwardly, he corrected himself. "Er, well, he forgives ya in any case, Scroogey! Ain't that right, big guy?"

A good scritch behind the dragon's ear was enough to have them happily agreeing. The old miser scoffed, amused all the same.

"In any case, that leaves us with what's left to do with ourselves. The whole point comin' here was because the princess said Excalibur was our only way home. But for all we know, her word isn't worth much more than the spite she spit out with it."

"Good question!" Fenton picked up the sword and inspected it. "This thing doesn't look very magical. How the heck is it supposed to send us home, anyhow?"

"I don't know." Scrooge stretched, and yawned. "But I do know this old man's a tired old man. What say we worry about that in the mornin'?"

The sword was dropped, and Fenton shrugged.

"Works for me! Hey, uh..." He turned to the dragon, who was looking pretty tired, itself. "You don't mind if we bunk with you tonight, do ya?"

The dragon replied with an impressive, gaping yawn of its own.

"I'll take that as a, sure! Stay as long as ya want! Thanks, pal!"

And so, by the light and warmth of dragon fire, the two heroes snuggled close (a little too close, a past Scrooge might have said), and drifted. The sound of the storm raging outside followed them into their eventual slumber.

They awoke to footfalls, but the sound of rain and thunder had subsided. The footsteps were barely audible over the sound of the dragon's snores. The fires had burnt out during the night, but the faint glow told them it must be morning.

Except part of that glow was moving. Scrooge rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and felt around in the dark to shake Fenton awake. Someone was coming into the cave, carrying a torch, and after the day they had previously, Scrooge was expecting another fight.

"Alright, who goes there?" The old mallard's voice was enough to wake up the dragon as well, as it began to stir. "We don't want any of your trouble- but we'll dish some out if you go getting any ideas!"

The dragon took a deep breath before lighting the cavern with its mighty flame. And with the light it brought clarity as the shadowy figure became the likes of a familiar face. It was the old man from throughout their journey! He raised his hands in surrender, as amusement laced his raspy voice.

"Trouble follows those who look for it. Today, I merely search for friends." Both the men from the future found themselves with another bout of surprise as the creature they had been napping on gently rose to greet the newcomer. With a few additional steps, and a slight bend of its neck, the dragon nuzzled the head of the wanderer.

Scrooge glared suspiciously.

"You know each other, do ye?"

The old man was silent as Fenton piped up excitedly.

"Boy! What a small world it is, runnin' into you again- and being pals and everything! It's almost like you knew we'd be-" the middle aged duck stopped talking as a look of shock hit him, as a realization dawned upon him. "Saaay, you knew where the dragon was all along! And that he was a nice guy, too!"

"Almost makes one wonder what else he's been hiding." Scrooge accused. The dragon laid down next to its old friend, as the aged traveler sat along with it- purple robe covered knees drawn towards his chest as he pulled out a wooden pipe. He didn't light it, but merely put it between his teeth and bill as he spoke.

"Answers only come to those with the right questions. Last we met you asked if I heard of any word of dragons. I replied with what I heard: where the danger was. I neither confirmed nor denied it was our dragon friend you spoke of."

Scrooge sputtered, any snarky replies he may have had now rendered obsolete. The wanderer had a point. Stiil...

"Why the secrecy? You could've saved us a lot of trouble if you'd just been forward with us!"

The old man got to his feet, a nudge from the dragon's snout helping out when the task proved difficult.

"A journey not taken is oftentimes opportunities wasted."

"Would ye stop talking in riddles and help us-"

Scrooge stopped when the man walked past him, wordlessly, obviously not listening. The traveller bent, picked up the discarded sword, and chuckled.

"Ho-ho! They actually managed to take your sword, hm? Ahhh, you've been slipping!" Despite the scolding words, they were said in a tone that spoke of jest. The playing grin he gave the dragon also hinted it. The dragon merely huffed, a small puff of smoke drifting from its nostrils.

He turned back toward Fenton and Scrooge, leaning on the sword as if it were a cane.

"I take it this means you two are about ready to have this sword take you home, hm?"

"And how!" Fenton replied. A pause. "No, really, how?"

"Yes, that would be nice." Scrooge replied, with a hint of sarcasm. "We're ready."

"Hmmmm." The old man nodded, thoughtfully. "Well. That's just too bad."

"What!?" Scrooge roared, making even the dragon flinch. So this guy was a threat, after all! He planned to keep them there! Well, not on his watch, why-

"Don't get too riled up there, my friend." The mysterious traveller's air of optimistic placidity was really beginning to get on Scrooge's nerves for some reason. The bearded man continued, not bothered by Scrooge's temper in the slightest. "I only mean that this sword holds no more magic than the one who wields it."

The robed duck tossed the sword up with ease, it flipped in a graceful arch, before landing back in the exact place it had been when they had first arrived in the cave, jutting from the dragon's pile of treasure.

Fenton's eyes lit up.

"Y'mean that the magic needed to take us home was inside of us this whole time?"

"No."

"Oh." Fenton deflated. The old man laughed at this, before gently placing a hand on the younger duck's shoulder.

"That doesn't mean you lack a spark either, son. Excalibur has a habit of knowing a good soul when it sees it. And kindness and charity is some of the strongest magic in this world."

Fenton didn't know if the old wanderer only said it to please him. But even if that was the case, it certainly DID cheer him up. His smile slipped off his face, however, when his mind got back to the matter at hand.

"Then… if the sword isn't the way back home…"

"Then what IS?" McDuck finished, his patience at its end. The aged traveller tilted his large brim hat so that all could be seen was entertained grin.

" _All you had to do was ask._ "

And with a snap with his fingers, and before the other two ducks could question his meaning, they were gone. The court magician, noting the dragon's saddened expression, petted its side sympathetically.

" _There there_ , it was only proper to send our heroes back home. They have many other tales that still need to be written." The ragged duck took a step forward as he headed towards the exit, his monster companion readily escorting him. The old man sighed as he thought of all the work that still laid ahead- starting with releasing the royal family from their shadowed prison.

But that, of course, was a story meant for another day.


	10. AFTERWARD

"And then what happened?" Louie asked, obviously enthralled by Fenton's tale.

"Yeah! Tell us!" his brothers echoed in unison.

The four children, Webigail included, sat on the floor in front of Fenton, eyes wide, hanging onto every word as he recounted their story. The fireplace crackled softly behind them, warm on their backs. He had waited a few days, two days of constant begging and pleading, before he finally gave in and agreed to tell. Had to build tension, and all that.

"Uh well, with a big flash of light, we were suddenly back in that cave! In our when and where! Like magic!"

Scrooge, sitting from his usual chair as he listened to the story with the wee ones, couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"That's because it was, ya dingus." There was fondness in his words, even as he momentarily took over so the kids could get the full picture. "Far stronger than any of the likes we've ever faced up against Magica de Spell. Her's is more like parlor tricks in comparison. We were only so lucky that the old crackpot had been on OUR side."

The children were amazed to hear this- it was hard to believe that there WAS anything more powerful than a determined old witch going after an obsession. The boys looked at each other in confusion as it was little Webby who politely raised a hand to be called upon. Fenton, amused by this and taking into the role of the group leader, addressed the child.

"Yeah, lil' lady?"

"WELL, um, I was just wondering… If Uncle Scrooge had a broken leg… how did you get back to Launchpad?"

The two men shared a look, as they realized there was a hitch in the story telling. In reality it had been simple, once they got back to their time, for the Gizmosuit to take them out of the cave- sword and all. Once outside the ancient cavern, all it took was for them to use the suit's propellers to get them close enough to walk the remaining way- with Launchpad none the wiser. But the children couldn't be told that, not even young ones were gullible enough to believe that their mechanic hero just HAPPENED to be in the neighborhood.

Fenton sputtered, trying to come up with a believable enough of a lie.

"ER, well, YOU SEE… There was… was, uh…"

The middle aged mallard was relieved when his paramour took the reigns, being much more experienced with stretching the truth.

"We had our radio, which luckily was undisturbed with the rest of the spelunking equipment we packed before getting sent to the past. All it took was a quick call, and Launchpad was sendin' in the cavalry. "

The children, pleased with the excuse, went on to chatter on about how great the pilot was, and how they couldn't wait for him to come back to town for a visit. Fenton, using the distraction to sit on the armrest of the billionaire's chair, leaned in to whisper.

" _Oh, that's a good one, Scroogey!_ "

Scrooge's only reply was a knowing smile. For a moment his mind slipped to Excalibur, as he happily thought about its new home in its money bin. The only place in the world that could rival the dragon's own stock. Coming back to the present, he turned his attention back to the children, who were still chattering excitedly amongst themselves.

"Alright, kids, you've had your story, it's time for bed."

This was met with groans, but neither adult expected anything else.

"Aw, but Uncle Scrooge! You said we could stay up tonight!" Huey whined.

"Aye, and ya have. By my watch, it's exactly four minutes past your bedtime. Hurry along, now, Mrs. Beakley'll be waiting."

The four kids whimpered and grumbled, but rose to their feet and trudged off to bed, just the same.

"That's Uncle Scrooge, alright; stingy as ever." Louie muttered on his way out.

Scrooge and Fenton watched them go. Then they sat in silence for awhile, watching the fire. The silence was nice, comfortable, warm. Scrooge broke it with a sigh, after a long while.

"Well, I suppose it's this old man's bed time, too." He slid off of the chair, and Fenton caught the wince as he did so. His leg was getting better, but slowly, it seemed. The boot provided by the doctors doing its job at keeping him steady. Still, it hurt him to watch Scrooge limping like that, it really did.

"... Scroogey?"

"Hm?" Scrooge paused on his slow advance to his room, and glanced over his shoulder.

"...I know you hate it, but look... for my benefit even if not for yours... would you mind if I carried you to bed? Please? _Just this once?_ "

"I can't help but recall Duckworth mentionin' a little whiles back about a certain somebody tucking me in, when I inquired how an old man could fall asleep in his chair and wake up in his bed…" Still, despite catching his accountant in his own little white lie, it was evident Scrooge was thinking it over. Fenton broke out into a smile as it dawned on him that he was, _goodness to truth_ , WAITING to see how his significant other would persuade him this time.

" _Oh… Oh Scroogey_ ~" Fenton couldn't help but coo lovingly. Scrooge scoffed, slowly facing forward, as he began his journey once more.

"Well, if that's ALL ye got t'say…"

"Wait, WAIT!" Fenton dashed, slipping under the homeowner's arms before stretching his own to block his love from taking another step. The young man continued, frantically. "What about this: it'll be free of charge! It'll let you save up all your energy for tomorrow when we get back to work: bright and early!" Not looking completely convinced, it was time for Fenton to pull out his ultimate weapon: "I'll even make pancakes! C'mon, honey pie, darlin' bunch- let me do this for ya. It'll make me feel better."

"Hmm." Scrooge looked Fenton up and down, and pretended to contemplate his options. Fenton was far too easy to rile up; it was barely a challenge, but it was still fun.

"You drive a hard bargain, laddie, but you got me. It's a deal."

Fenton took one look at the hand extended for a handshake, and bypassed it completely, scooping Scrooge up bridal style in excited triumph.

"Wah-hoo!" He cried out, and then flinched and grinned sheepishly. "Whoops! I mean, wah-hoo!" he repeated, this time in a whisper. Scrooge's glare and scowl lasted only a second, before dissolving into a sigh, an amused smirk, and a shake of his head.

"Only you would make something as trivial as helping a poor old man t'bed into something more."

Fenton started his decent down the hall, the stairs already in sight. While it was definitely harder to carry his partner up the stairs without his super suit's mechanical strength, he had to admit there was more satisfaction in getting to actually feel the other man in his arms. The warm body against his own was enough to make him beam as if the whole world was as perfect as could be. Fenton beamed all the brighter at Scrooge's banter.

"Aww, just admit it, you know you love me the way I am!"

"Love is a strong word, Fenton."

"Then what about enamoured?" The accountant tested. "Cherish? _Maddenly twitterpated for?_ "

"Been getting vocabulary lessons from that caped dunderhead in Saint Canard again, have you?" Scrooge retorted and teased.

"Who, Wingy? Naaw!" Fenton shook his head. "Besides, you didn't hear this from me, but taking romancin' advice from that guy wouldn't exactly be what I'd call a good investment."

Scrooge chuckled, both amused to hear an actual insult uttered by Fenton, and by his wording. There was hope for that boy yet.

When they reached the bedroom door, Scrooge obliged to turn the handle and swing it open, and Fenton discovered that this endeavor was a much easier one when his passenger was conscious.

"So, uh..." Fenton glanced around the room, awkwardly, still holding the man in his arms. He was starting to get heavy, but wasn't love worth it? "You need help getting into your night clothes?"

Had it been any other person asking, Scrooge would have taken that as some crude attempt into wooing him to bed. Knowing the lad was genuine in wanting to help, however, didn't stop the old miser from badgering him anyway.

"A little early, and mighty presumptuous, laddie. Be careful, one might start t'question your _innocent intentions._ "

Fenton, face now flushed from being flustered, started sputtering.

" **N-no!** I, I mean, that wasn't-"

"However, " Scrooge interrupted, smirking in satisfaction at the reaction he caused. "While the offer is APPRECIATED, I think lettin' me off here is more than enough help fer one day."

That was all the accountant needed to hear, before he did what he was told. With Scrooge back on his own two webbed feet, it was time for him to get going. Still embarrassed, and fumbling with his tie as he righted himself, Fenton began to back up- pointing a thumb at the door.

"I guess I'll get goin' then. Told M'ma I'd be back home tonight, so hopefully she remembers and doesn't lock me out again." Using a box of cans left on the porch to be recycled had been his most uncomfortable bedding to date, and he wasn't in the mood to test if a second time was the charm. With a slight shudder, Fenton carried on. "But don't worry, I'll keep my promise and be bright and early! Bushy tailed n' all!"

Fenton had just made it to the door when he was stopped by Scrooge clearing his throat. With a quick turn around, he was greeted with the billionaire crossing his arms against his chest, a slight frown on his bill.

"Aren't you FORGETTING something?"

Fenton started at Scrooge blankly for a second, before giving another glance around the room. Stumped, he shrugged.

"Uhhh, am I?" Suddenly, perhaps aided by the look Scrooge was giving him, it hit him.

"Oh!" Half way in his eager scamper over to his lover, he had just enough time to hope his assumption was right. If not, he might end up with a lump or two he'd be feeling for the next few days.

However, after- carefully - wrapping his arms around him, Fenton had lost his nerve. He smiled at Scrooge, tentatively, trying his best not to get lost in those eyes.

"Are ya sure? Can I really?"

The old mallard scoffed.

"Oh, so NOW you ask. Where was this modesty a few months ago?" Despite the wording, it was clearly spoken in jest. Scrooge went on, getting his own grip on the younger man's shoulders. "Although, if you don't hurry up, I may just change my mind altogethOOF!"

Eagerness would have to be the revenge of the evening for all of the old man's teasings. Bill pressed against bill, Fenton's stomach fluttered all the more as he felt the pressure equally returned. Here Fenton had kissed this man, the one he loved, many times since their relationship started- on the cheek, on the forehead, and sometimes even sneaking a quick peck on the side of the bill…

But it was with their first mutual kiss that Fenton melted there at the very spot.

It was Scrooge who pulled away first, what felt like lifetimes only having been a mere few seconds, as he had to fight the own clouded look in his eyes. Clearing his throat once more, breaking the accountant out of his love infatuated stupor, Scrooge's voice was slightly huskier than usual as he began pulling himself out of the lad's arms.

"Well, _you had your piece_. If you you don't get goin', I may start chargin' ye for loitering."

"Right! Yes! Going! I'm gone!" Still on his happy high, and full of endless energy, Fenton Crackshell dashed towards the door and even made it to the other side. "Bye bye, Scroogey! Pleasant dreams!"

Scrooge could only shake his head in response, the sound of the door slamming and the happy 'wahoos!' as his significant other bounded down the halls only fueling his mirth. Oh, if he had been any younger he would have found the antics embarrassing. This… THIS was where his affections lied? In a man half his age, who flip flopped willy nilly from being a charming asset to a blubbering moronic mess? The very walking definition of a man-child, if he ever saw one.

But for once Scrooge McDuck was at peace, as his gut told him it was one of the best investments he had ever made. _And gut feelings were to be trusted._

 **.:THE END:.**


End file.
